I've already written about how much I bloody love my parents. I'm in that lucky, socially awkward number that count their parents as people they adore hanging out with, who consider them to be a mandatory, doctor's orders, once-a-week-minimum social engagement. They're just brilliant people who I miss more than I can possibly write or verbalise (see the most recent QE v-log for evidence of this). AND THEY ARE HERE IN LESS THAN FOUR DAYS!
I wish I could write something half decent to try to express how I feel. I haven't seen them for ten whole months, which is a big thing for any expat (if you ask me). Your family provides such a fundamental framework for who you are that, when displaced physically and emotionally, the idea of such an integral part of your existence coming into your new space makes you feel simultaneously relieved, excited, and unbearably elated.
It's not like they're going to fix anything (there's nothing to fix); it's not like they're staying for a prolonged period, so I can't get used to them being in Charlotte; and it's not like we've not been in touch (we have Skype, What'sApp, email, post etc.). But I haven't seen them. I haven't really heard them. I've not hugged them. I've not had a snorting girl giggle with Mum, haven't heard my Dad's booming laugh from three storeys above where he actually is seated, and not felt that literally innate sense of belonging.
I cannot wait for them to be here.