I was always really popular when I returned to my dorm or off-campus house, after a weekend at home with my parents.
There was never a trip home without a pit stop at the new warehouse-style store in our neighbourhood. I would push the cart through the aisles, and my parents would fill it with student-friendly staples—to keep us fed, to give us energy for studying, to remind us of home.
Always enough for me, and always enough for anyone who shared my space.
My friends and roomates knew it was a help yourself policy, when it came to those treats.
And my parents justly earned the nicknames Mom and Dad for their generosity.
This morning, I met them at the warehouse-style store in our neighbourhood. We arrange an outing every couple of months, so I can stock up on environmentally-friendly, bulk-sized detergent and soap with their membership card.
My mom and I walked ahead, while my dad and the little one checked out the scenery and samples.
It felt like everything and yet nothing had changed.
When my mom snuck some kids books into the cart, I was reminded that it hadn't.
As much as we tease my parents for sticking to their rituals and routines, I wouldn't want it to be different.
Today's simple trip was one of many ways that show me they feel the same.