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My husbandapos;s nephew, who is 15 years old is living with us. He arrived in the end of July and heapos;ll leave in January.
We thought that this might be a wonderful opportunity for him to spend six months in the US, improving his English and expanding his horizons.
I was the one who came up with the idea. I believed that I could learn a lot from this experience, from this exchange. Especially I believed that I could open myself more to love.
I never cared much about my in-laws and I donapos;t really know why.�They just seem too uninteresting to me, and they have an aura of melancholy that I find unattractive. They treat me nicely but I donapos;t feel and canapos;t find love for them in me.
I thought that the nephew being here, and connecting more with the way we live and experience life, would be a great opportunity for him to open up to other possibilities and help me make a connection to their family.
Heapos;s actually a very nice kid, he listens,�he adapts, heapos;s trying his�freaking best to�do everything right,� he�helps out in every way he can, he picks up and cleans up after himself, but he has a huge problem: heapos;s here. Heapos;s present. He exists.
Since the boy arrived, I find myself brooding over meaningless things. Every morning, after heapos;s gone to school, and my husband is at work, I find things to complain about, stewing this soup of bad energy. Not real things, just traces of his very existence in my house: a�dish towel thatapos;s not folded the right way, the mirror in his bathroom dotted with toothpaste residue, the loaf of bread that is gone in half a day, a can of soda that was put in the wrong trash.
And I realize that no matter how much I integrate him into our habits and little manias, no matter how much he learns of my little likes and preferences, Iapos;ll always find something else.
I came to this gloomy realization that nothing he does or doesnapos;t do will change the way I feel.
I seem incapable of opening up�to accept and love him.�
I donapos;t feel guilty about it�, �just sad.
Maybe I do care in my own weird way, and Iapos;ll only fully understand it once heapos;s gone. I might deeply regret that I didnapos;t make a better use of the time he was here, that I didnapos;t make the effort. But for now, I count the days for his departure, 3 months and 8 days to go.
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