Remember all those times an adult told you about x91when I was youngx92? Frankly, none of us can actually imagine our parents in those times. Strange images of weird hairdos, terrible clothing, roaring dinosaurs and stoned festival-goers pop up on instant. We try to picture our parents in a time, place and age based on vague sepia pictures, hidden inside old photo albums you found on a rainy Sunday in the back of the linen closet.

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And so, most of the time, we shrug off the fact that our parents used to be less wrinkly or bald, and that the music they sing along to today once played in their favourite hang-out years ago.

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That just gives me the shivers, imagining my parents x91hanging outx92.

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I never really thought that my parents would ever pick up an old habit from their youth. Something like midnight-racing, Saturday-lake-swimming, or going to the movies with friends. And even if these habits would return, it would be after my and my sisterx92s resignation from the elderly house.

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But nooooo. My parents arenx92t categorized under x91normalx92 or x91averagex92. Theyx92re under x91Beunx92.

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Ever since we moved to this tiny village, it was clear that the centre of events was the pub owned by Gunter. People gather there when they have nothing else to do for the day, tourist stop to grab a drink, partyx92s are being held, birthdayx92s celebrated and gossip exchanged.

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And my parents mingled.

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They go there in the weekends, to have a few drink and chat up with the neighbours. They never had the chance to do this kind of thing before, because there simply was no pub in our neighbourhood. Gunterx92s pub is only a hundred metres walking from our front door.

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I let them, as long as they make sure not to gossip about me, share baby-pictures or, during the summer, drink any sangria other than mine (I make one mean sangria).

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But one Saturday-night, they came home late, and my mother said;

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x93I think we gave away a round too many, hihi.x94

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I was flabbergasted. And not just by the finishing giggle.

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My parents gave away rounds?? Like teenagers do?? They did not just drink a lot on their own expense, but they were paying for -and receiving from- others??

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And all of a sudden, I saw my parents very clear; they were happy here in Zondereigen, at a happy time of their lives, because they could do the exact same thing like when they were young:

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Doing whatever they damn well pleased.

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The shock faded, along with the disturbing (self-made-up) images of my mother dancing at a club at the age of 18, and my father hanging out with some x91nozemsx92 nearby the market.

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Itx92s like I can finally see what kind of youngsters my parents were. Because nothing really changed. The only thing in their way, is us. My sister and I.

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Ix92m glad we moved to this place. Because when we move out in a year or two, three, my parents will be more than happy on their own. Now, they have their very own hang-out. Just like when they were young.

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