Walking the cobbled streets of Dublin, I had an overwhelming sense of my independence. At 20, I was doing a semester abroad at Trinity, and though I had been on my own for two years at college, this was different. Only then did I realize that I might actually be responsible enough for adulthood.  Two years later, I’m a graduate of Georgetown University living with my parents and occupying a bedroom with a dinosaur blanket and the remains of my middle school Beanie Baby collection.  I am back to the routine I felt I had outgrown in high school, in a room I had outgrown even earlier.  I miss college, I miss my friends being immediately accessible and I miss being able to stack dirty dishes and leave towels around. I miss sleeping in on Saturdays without being awakened by a 75-pound puppy.  Though my parents won’t admit it, the dog, Emmy, was their pre-emptive move to fill their empty nest when they realized their youngest child — my sister — was leaving for college in September. My parents obsess over this dog. If the breeder had offered pre-puppy Lamaze classes, I have no doubt Mom and Dad would have enrolled.  And yet, despite the destruction of every shoe, book and wallet I’ve left within 20 feet of her, Emmy makes the house less lonely, and helps keep us from moping about the reality of our new living situation.  When I’m not teaching the dog the difference between lie and stay, I’m teaching my parents the difference between On Demand and DVRs.  It has become like a project, and I have willingly become the Information Technology instructor. It’s only fair considering my dad always has coffee ready for me in the morning, and my mom still makes me lunch to take to my new, 9-to-5 office job.  When I went away for a weekend, I walked through ordering a movie on demand with my dad at least five times. It was the first weekend since I’d moved back that I was leaving him alone with the TV, and he seemed as if he’d mastered it.  I try to maintain the normal social life of a 22-year-old, though I have to contend with the guilt of knowing that my mom’s irrepressible maternal instinct keeps her up until I’m home — sometimes as late as 4 a.m. “I wait because I’m your mother and I never stop being your mother,” she tells me, and it’s hard to argue with that.  It’s been tough realizing that I’m not on summer or Christmas break, that this is indefinite. When I was home from college, my mom cooked my favorite meals and I got a reprieve from household chores. I was the prodigal son returning briefly, whereas now my parents expect me to be an active part of the household.  I should feel stuck — that I’m regressing, or that I’m missing out on the experience of living in a big city on my own — but much to my surprise, I don’t. Indeed, there’s something comforting in my situation. I can experience the frustrations of young adulthood and the infancy of my professional life, and still come back to my dog’s unwavering affection and a home-cooked meal. So during the most jarring transition of my life — from student to graduate — it’s not bad having the stability my childhood home offers.  Certainly I have moments that are demoralizing, times when I am unceremoniously reminded that midday naps are not possible, or that leaving dirty laundry around is no longer acceptable.  At times it gnaws at me that I cannot rely on my youthful potential anymore.  I do not pity myself for long, though, because only a few bedrooms away are my parents, the two people proudest of what I have accomplished, and rooting most for my success.  The adjustment hasn’t been easy for them, either. Their nest should be empty. They could put pressure on me. And yet they tread lightly.  I’m more aware that I enjoy their company now that my brother and sister aren’t around. Instead of small talk and holing myself in my room as I did when I was 17, I discuss books with my dad and watch shows with my mom that I’d be too embarrassed to watch with my friends. The invisible line between parent and child is dissolving while a relationship between adults and a semi-adult is forming.  We decided how to best train our dog, we talk about how well my sister seems to be doing at school and how we wish she would call more, and we discuss current events.  Now that I’m paying attention at dinner, I realize how similar their political views are to mine.  I’ve never shared the opinion that mine is a lost generation, the first doomed by the entitlement-obsessed Boomers. Though we could be the first generation not to surpass the success of our parents, their success serves as a pre-professional safety net, in lieu of the safety net the government may not be able to provide my generation. I’m fortunate that my parents are giving me the time to save money from my modest salary while I’m home. Seeing my mom finally use the television remote successfully all by herself, I realize at least I’m contributing something.  I know this situation is not and should not be permanent, but for now, it helps. I believe I will look back at this time fondly. I am sure that living at home will give me a greater opportunity for success in the future. At nighttime, after I turn out the lights and climb into bed, I have no problem sleeping soundly under my dinosaur blanket.  Aodhan Beirne lives with his parents in Yonkers, but hopes some day to have to make his own lunch for work.  You can follow Booming via RSS or visit nytimes.com/booming.
Sure, I canât leave towels on the floor anymore or sleep until noon, but Iâve developed a new relationship with my parents, one where Iâm an adult, and one that I value very much.