When did it start?

As a girl growing up in this culture in this continent I have been marked with certain responsibilities. Parents never go to an old folks home. They must always live with their children when they are old and especially once they lose the other half of their lives. Eventually children start driving their parents around because they dont want to deal with the hassle of parking and traffic jams. Eventually the children are the ones to hunt around for their glasses so that the old eyes can get some help. Eventually you bring them to hospitals, for check ups, you sit by their side while they recover. You wash and wipe their feet and tuck them in. And eventually you receive phone calls in the middle of the night telling you that they need to go to the Emergency room. NOW.

I just never thought it would happen this early. This young in my life. I imagined it would happen when I am older, wiser, more prepared to know and understand whats going on with their bodies. To be able to help my parents get undressed and tuck them into bed just as I would have tucked my children.

I never thought it would be now.

Theyre the ones that you could never imagine growing old. The one that I always know I can go to and cry when things get bad and all they would have to do is hold my hand and tell me things are going to be ok. Or the one I would call for whenever I have problems (like when my car died... twice!) Theyre the ones who are supposed to be strong. Always.

I just dont like that reminder... of my parents mortality. Im not ready for it. Not now. Not yet. I want to forever be their little girl and have them always watch over me...