my parents bought the house across the street from me.

My parents bought the house across the street from me.

For some of you, that sentence might make you recoil, thinking, That sounds terrible.

Others might think it sounds kind of nice.

Some of you may fall into the “neutral” category.

I consider myself pretty lucky as I write that sentence.

Both of my parents are still here, living and breathing on Planet Earth with me.

They are in great health.

They want to be close to me.

And I want them to be close.

I don’t take a single one of those facts for granted.

I have been blessed with parents that support me endlessly.

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My mom drove with me for three days as I moved down to Austin after graduating college.

She let me keep her car there. They never once told me, “We don’t think you should do this.”

And I’m glad they didn’t. I learned what it felt like to be truly alone. I learned how to be there for myself, even though I was slowly unraveling.

They opened their home back up to me after I decided graduate school in Austin wasn’t my future, after all. No complaints, no resistance, I could live there as I commuted into New York City for work.

They gave me shelter and food and love as I came fully undone.

My mom then flew with me to California and helped me move to Los Angeles a year later, after accepting a job as a textbook sales rep. They never once told me, “We don’t think you should do this.”

And I’m glad they didn’t. I loved—love—California. I started exploring the question Who am I? there. I learned what it felt like to reach burnout, to drown yourself in work and vodka. To be responsible for pulling yourself up off the floor.

They listened as I told them I was signing a lease with a boy I’d been dating—but they never met—in Pasadena a year later. They never once told me, “We don’t think you should do this.”

And I’m glad they didn’t. In that time, I learned what happens when boundaries aren’t set, when you don’t communicate in relationships. I learned what is required when you choose love.

That boy would become my forever.

They were with me as I paced their living room, home in New Jersey during Christmas break four years later, FaceTiming with Adam as he toured our future home in Colorado. My dad counseled me through the process of buying my first home. They never once told me, “We don’t think you should do this.”

And I’m glad they didn’t. Colorado is home now. It’s the place where I’ve picked up all the pieces of myself, painted the collage of Courtney again. It’s the place where I can breathe, where I feel the most like me.

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I read a book recently that quoted Johann Wolfgang von Goethe: “There are only two lasting bequests we can hope to give our children. One of these is roots, the other, wings.”

I have been blessed with parents that gave me both.

They helped me build sturdy wings—through trial and error, bloody fingers and bruised palms—by never holding me back. By never shutting down where I wanted to take my life. I’m sure this was painful as hell. I’m sure they wanted to tell me I was making mistakes at times. But they bit their tongues. They knew how important wings are.

They said, “Go,” and then watched me sometimes stumble, sometimes fly.

And when I stumbled, they were the roots I could return to. Always. No questions asked. No “I told you so” or lectures about the money and time wasted. I could return to love and support. “What’s next? Where do we go from here?”

And it was okay when the answer was, “I don’t know.”

I used to think that my roots were strong in New Jersey. It’s where I grew up, it’s where I spent most of my life. I thought I would always feel the need to return to the east coast to find my center.

But I think I’m wrong.

My roots aren’t strong in New Jersey. My roots are strong in the two people they stem from.

it’s not the place that makes a home. it’s the people.

And how lucky am I that my parents are willing to uproot themselves and follow me two thousand miles away?

My parents, who have both lived in New Jersey for their entire lives.

Their people are there. Most of their network is on the east coast.

Except for me.

their winged child that flew West.

What a blessing to have two people, my own flesh and blood, that make me feel like I’m home wherever we are, together.

It’s just a second home, this house across the street. They’ll continue to be in New Jersey most of the time, and I’ll always continue hopping on flights to Newark to see my sister and her family.

But it’s not lost on me that this home is their way of saying, “We’ve given you a third bequest.

Presence.”

xx

Court.