Welcome home, Courtina


Do you know what it’s like to walk into a warm, inviting home after a long, hard day at work and have 7 people shout this genuinely, loudly and excitedly in your direction? Probably not, because your name is not Courtina. But this was my greeting today. Just a regular autumn Wednesday night, but when you live on a street where 90% of the homes are occupied by your family members, this is not an unusual scene.

Last month I decided to move in with my grandparents. As with most decisions, I have both selfish and unselfish reasons. Yes, I want to save up so I can travel more extensively in the relatively near future. But most importantly, I want this time with Nonna and Gramps. And the time thus far has proven to be full of laughs and sweet memories.

And lots of pasta.

So tonight, as I walked through the sliding glass door with a fierce head cold and my hands full, the reception of love from grandparents, cousins and an uncle was beautiful. I said my hellos, surveyed the kitchen that still smelled and looked of the amazing feast Nonna had cooked just hours before, chatted with my cousin about “family things”, took my NyQuil, and trotted downstairs – with a slap on my rear from Nonna for good measure.

As I lay here in bed just under the kitchen where my family sits, stands, and stomps above me laughing, eating and drinking, I hear Nonna laughing louder than them all, and I say my prayers and thank God for the family he blessed me with.

Me and my roommates....Gramps and Nonna