I make sure that every Sunday morning I wake up in my old bed, in my old room with my old cat asleep next to my face and my not-so-old parents asleep in their room below me.
Every Sunday we do something as a family. Last Sunday we went to the V&A to enjoy Kirstenbosch’s Chelsea Flower Show exhibition and ate lunch in the Food Market. A chicken schwarma for me, lamb for my mother and something Chinese for my dad. A brownie to wash the whole lot down.
The Sunday before that we drove along the West Coast Road to catch the early spring flowers and ate an incredible meal at !Khwa Ttu, the San cultural and educational center just outside Yzerfontein.
They serve only venison from buck which roam wild on their land. I ate an eland burger with fluffy chips and the crunchiest onion rings I’ve had in a long time.
We drove home through Darling and I was reminded again how much I love that area. It’s my favourite daytrip from the city.
My parent’s house is still my home. My home home.
The place where I will never be truly grown up.
I love it and I love our Sundays.
The best part about becoming an adult, is realising your parents are pretty cool people to hang out with.