Before college, I lived in my house for about seven years. It wasn't my entire life, but it was the part of my life that mattered most - my childhood house. It's the house I lived in from 7th grade all the way through freshman year of college. Well, half of freshman year. Most of my favourite memories were made in this house, but I said my goodbyes in August.

Coming home for Christmas was very exciting - it was basically my first time home ! I loved the familiar walls, but my parents informed me that they might be moving into my old high school's boarding house to serve as House Parents. They asked me if it was okay, and I told them yes. Attending the school, I knew how important the boarding program was, especially after getting a Chinese sister my junior year. Rinjer joined our family and lived at that familiar house with us for an entire year.

I ENCOURAGED my parents to go to the house. But, coming home after the move was distinctly unusual.

I really don't have my own room anymore. Granted, I still have a place where only my bed is, but I live in the boarding house. There's a constant soundtrack of steps above my head. My mum is still my mum, but I have to share her with all the kids who need her. They only get a sliver of what I get, though.

Every night I was home this previous weekend, I would go sit in the common area to watch all of the boys play ping pong. They definitely got rowdy, but it's expected. I found it difficult to focus on my Spanish assignments because every boy had his own joke to tell - my favourite was when one of the boys fell on the ground, and he stood back up saying, "Ever heard of stand up comedy?" I shrilled (please tell me you caught this reference.)

Our front door remained open, and honestly, it didn't bother me a single bit. The only struggle there is that I can't change anywhere in my house, I have to actually go back to my room or bathroom. If that's the only downfall, then I'd say the open door policy is pretty solid.

Another funny moment was when I was stretching while I did my homework. I grabbed my foot and leaned forward - a casual position for me. One of the boys was blown away with my flexibility because he "could never reach [his] toes." The boys proceeded to discuss my senior photo in my mother's office of me doing the splits across the school entrance sign.

While it was definitely NOT the "privacy of my own home," I had a great weekend. I can't truly say that I've always wanted 20 brothers, but I'm happy with the ones I've received.