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It's 4 p.m.. The sound of a slamming door indicates my father's home from work. Within 30 minutes the remaining four members of my family come home and the sound of that door becomes a wailing siren warning me of their approach. What conflict will happen this afternoon? What can my parents and I possibly find to fight about tonight? I walk into my room and shut the door, hoping to find serenity there.
The silence is replaced with the sound of multiple televisions, the noise from a radio in my sister's room next door and the continuous yells of my youngest sister. Is it too difficult for everyone to calm down once in a while? Apparently so.
Within a few minutes, I hear the first knick on my door. Actually, "knock" is not the correct word. The "Bangs" on my door are mini-explosions that make the windows rattle and my shelves shake. And so the torture begins; from this point on, I am met with critical comments about my room, requests for full attantion from my sister and non-stop demands to do this, that and the other. Could everyone just leave me alone?
Each demand increases the tension that has, in recent year, become a permanent part of my relationship with my parents. I try to calm down. I try to relax and ignore the irritation. I try, but fail miserably. So we quarrel until dinner, and then...
...we attempt to share a peaceful moment around the table.
We eat and try to have a conversation. My parents ask about my day at school, and for a few moments we actually enjoy listening to each other. It's at this time that I realise that no matter how much we fight, my family will always care about me. But I am looking forward to going to university. Maybe my family and I will get along better when we don't have to be together every day. I do know, however, that despite all of the arguments, I'll always come home. No matter what happens or how much we row, I know there are at least four people I can always rely on.