A letter to ... our Boomerangs

This summer, we invited readers to share the letter they have always wanted to write, but never did.

Dear Boomerangs,

We gently nudged as you headed off into the world as young adults. We helpedmove furniture into flats, helped with overseas airfares, checked you had car or travel insurance and enough clean towels.

We waved goodbye with lumps in our throats, wondering if we’d been good enough parents to prepare you for life’s challenges.

The farewells were: ‘‘Bye! Stay safe. Keep in touch,’’ and ‘‘Always here if you need us – our door is always open.’’

That ‘‘open door’’ offer has nowmade us all shift our expectations and reassess our needs.

Decades ago, leaving our own parents’ comfy ‘‘nests’’, the expectation was to have an entirely separate life where a returnhomemeant passing through, overnight visits, or temporary holidays.

I don’t need a Google search to understand that more adult children in manyWestern societies are boomeranging back to live with family.

The economic situation, and now a global pandemic, has created circumstances that must have ballooned these numbers!

We see your peers (and partners) making this choice because they’re saving for a house or travel or can’t afford city rent while they study. Maybe they’re moving back home because they simply can’t afford other options due to lost jobs, lost relationships, or a collapse of mental health.

We do understand your choice, but it has led to such a complex situation. We’ve all aged, and we have entirely different sets of needs. We are trying to squeeze these into a shared home that might not be fit for purpose.

Every day we’re all challenged by what it means to live alongside each other as independent adults. You’re no longer our dependent children who were once entrusted to our care.

We have vital but tough questions that need answers. We believe you must be asking these too because you spend a lot of time in your room, avoiding the conflict that might come with discussing them.

Are we flatmates, or are you a boarder? Is it a share house, a bed and breakfast, or a hotel?

How temporary do you want this to be? Who pays for everything?

How do we negotiate our privacy? Who changes the empty toilet roll?

There are mixed emotions. We’re often sad that you feel you have no other option, even temporarily, and this makes us all cynical and resentful. We know you crave your independence, but being up close to see you thrive and succeed doesmake us proud and happy.

We’re torn between wanting to help you out, keep you safe and offer respite, while trying to cope with things such as invasion of privacy, agreed rules over divided chores, extra dishes, and more wet towels.

We sometimes witness a maddening ‘‘revertigo’’, as you fall back into teenage behaviours that we thought you had surely grown out of.

It’s small things that have us questioning our parenting skills, like asking for Uber-alternative rides out or sober-driver recovery early in the morning. Using the ‘‘floordrobe’’, seeing the fridge as an all-you-can-eat buffet, blowing out the bandwidth permanently connected to your online devices, a lack of oil or petrol in the car, and leaving the shower and toilet to fester.

We never felt we were throwing you out with force all those years ago, and we didn’t expect you to spin around for a while and crash back through our front door, earning your own Wikipedia definition – the Boomerang Generation.

It’s difficult to negotiate these expectations and find time for clear and honest communication, as we all rush about our daily lives. But if this is going to work, we have to do this together.

Can we please have more of these courageous conversations?

Because we love you, and we really cherish having you in our lives.

Do you have a letter you have always wanted to write to someone, but never did? Perhaps you want to get in touch with a long-lost friend or recount a story to a family member. Maybe you’ve always wanted to declare your feelings for someone, or make an admission. We want to help by publishing your words – maybe the intended recipient will even read them.