I still sleep in my parents’ bed. Beside them. At night. And I’m 20-years-old. Let me put that into context.

My parents are getting old. It pains me, but this is a fact. And whether or not I try to convince myself otherwise, one day I will be without them, assuming I’ll live longer than they do. I will not be able to see my mother’s face, or hear my father’s voice, I will not be able to physically go to them for support, or guidance or love.

This simple reality deeply pains me. And for this reason, I sleep beside them. I sleep amongst their bodies that rise and fall as mine does with each breath we take, and I hold on to this simple action that makes me feel as if we will be united forever. I try my hardest to remember them in their stillness, the patterns of their breath, their facial features and body shapes in such peaceful and innocent bliss. By sleeping beside them, I desperately hold on to how alive we all are in that moment, because I know that one day they will be nothing but a distant memory.

The second reason I sleep alongside my parents is to preserve my youth. I no longer fit in their bed with them as I used to, but I don’t let that stop me. Because I know that in this moment, I am as young as I’ll ever be, and as time ticks away I too am only growing older. Sleeping side by side, I latch on to the memories of when I used to fit in their bed comfortably. When responsibility was merely nothing but a word. When my mother’s outstretched arms were the only home I knew and needed, and my father’s presence beside me was enough protection to ward away the scariest monsters that came to chase me at night.

Now, I rest beside them in hopes that my mother’s arms will forever hold me when I feel lonely amidst swarms of people wherever I go, and look to my father to protect me from the real world, filled with demon’s far worse than the ones I remember residing in the night’s darkness when I was a child. I close my eyes next to them, and in that moment I feel as though I am a child again. I grasp whatever memories I can of my childhood days, a jar filled to the brim with careless laughter and a worry-free spirit, because I know as soon as I wake up from the dark night and into tomorrow’s light, my childhood will be that much farther away.

And so this is why, as a 20-year-old, I continue to sleep in my parents’ bed, beside them. Now don’t get me wrong, I don’t sleep next to them every single night. I do in fact have a bed of my own in which I solemnly slumber like most people every day. But whenever I visit home, I spend at least one night in their midst. And to be utterly honest, I will probably continue to do so for as long as I can, regardless of how strange or comical it may seem to others. Because that is how I choose to encapsulate them. When they are in peaceful and innocent bliss. I realize I am lucky to be able to say that I have two loving and compassionate parents, and that not all are as fortunate as I am. But I hope that everyone has a family member, or just someone with whom they feel they can be vulnerable and comfortable with. And I hope you realize how precious your time with them really is, that you don’t take it for granted and make every moment not only count, but last. Because just as time passes, one day they will too, and one day so will you.

Pavithra Devarajan is a Collegian columnist and can be reached at [email protected].