I'm getting a roommate! My niece!

Me and my new roommate.

Pssst. I’m getting a roommate. And, to be completely honest, I’m a little nervous. Maybe a lot nervous.

My roommate is my 23-year-old niece. She’s an amazing young woman and, like all of my nieces and nephews, I love her fiercely.

My Favourite Husband (MFH) and I always maintained that if any one of our nieces or nephews needed a place to live while they got on their feet, our door would be open and a safe place to land. She’s currently needing a place to nest and so she’s taking me up on that offer.

Don’t get me wrong. All the 'kids' come from good homes but there’s something about not living with your parents when you’re used to living on your own. Something about figuring out your next step in life away from a place where you’ll always be 'the kid.' 

Watching her grow up, I’ve been filled with both moments of pride and moments of wincing. I’ve thought she’s the smartest human being in the world and … well, not. 

She’s bright, bubbly, fun. She has a huge heart, which sometimes gets her into trouble. She can be stubborn, independent and stubbornly independent. She professes to take no crap but I’ve seen her take a lot of crap, mostly from guys who aren’t good enough for her. 

She moved out at 19 because she wanted to live where the only rules were hers and, even if it left her broke, she paid her rent on time. She was and is determined to make it on her own so I imagine the thought of moving into my basement isn’t easy for her. But she knows I won’t judge.

You see, 23-year-old her is a lot like 23-year-old me. That scares me. Just kidding. Maybe. I watch some of the things she does and I can predict the outcome because I lived it albeit many years ago. I see her trust too much, share too much of herself, her heart. I want to tell her to stop, that she’ll get hurt but these are lessons she needs to learn for herself. Just like I had to and still have to. 

I haven’t lived with anyone for over three years. Haven’t heard footsteps coming up the stairs from the basement, the everyday noise another human being makes as they move about their day. I haven’t heard another person breathing. Or death metal but MFH wasn’t into it, so that’ll be a new one. 

I haven’t had to put clothes on if I didn’t want to; haven’t had to make conversation if I didn’t reach out and have one. 

I’m going to be forced to interact with someone in my own home and I’m not sure I’m ready to do that. But, for her, I will.

For this kid, I will open up my home, my nest, my safe space. For this kid, I’ll put on clothes when I get out of the shower and I might even close the bathroom door. 

For this kid, I’ll be the favourite aunt as we both figure out our next moves in life.

I imagine she has some trepidation moving in with me as well. Even though I have next to no rules and she doesn’t have to pay rent (but she needs to sock away money so she can move out), the only time we’ve been roommates was in Mexico this past spring. The vacation went well — really well — but there’s no beach, no bar and no boys at my house. There’s just me and my old-lady ways. She loves me as much as I love her and neither one of us wants to mess up the good thing we have. Maybe it’s a good thing we are both a little nervous to start. 

I’ll continue to be her biggest cheerleader; to love and support her. I’ll celebrate her wins and pick up her pieces. She’ll do that for me, too. 

59-year-old me will live with 23-year-old her and exchange wisdom as we both learn how to be roommates and women together. And it will be more than OK. It’ll be another beautiful experience in my life.