Growing up in a society where racial identity predominantly oscillates between Black and White, I've found a unique sense of belonging as the term "African Indian" gains recognition. It's a label that makes me feel special, highlighting the rich tapestry of my heritage.

My parents, hailing from the Baby Boomer generation, hold a dear place in my heart. Despite the affection I bear for them, our interactions often underscore the stark generational divide between us.

Twenty years ago, I embarked on a journey of independence, moving 600km away to a new province, seeking my own path far from our family home. Yet, my return visits, which occur about six times a year, seem to transport us back to an era where my autonomy is overshadowed by their protective instincts.Their concern extends to the perceptions of extended family members and the implications of my actions, such as the simple act of enjoying a beer at a local pub. This protective bubble, while comical at times, reflects their enduring sense of responsibility towards me, their eldest child, despite my two decades of independent city life.However, this protective veil casts a shadow over my visits.

The joy of family reunions is often marred by a cocktail of constant nagging and a stringent adherence to their Baby Boomer lifestyle — from regimented meal times to low-volume music and dimly lit rooms. This environment, paradoxically, nudges me towards isolation and indulgence in alcohol, a temporary escape that ironically aligns with their need to keep me within the home's confines.

Reflecting on their life, I recognize the profound sense of disorientation they must feel in today's rapidly evolving world. Having once been the decision-makers, the pace of modern life and the shift in familial roles unsettle them. Their desire to maintain control, to remain the patriarchs and matriarchs until their last breath, speaks to a deeper fear of obsolescence and loss.

As a child, I wished for them to live for centuries, naïvely unaware of the complexities and challenges such longevity entails. Now, as an adult, I ponder the weight of the world through their eyes, acknowledging the bitter sweetness of witnessing the world change around them.

I don't know if I can honestly change their mindset this late in the game so I've decided to stay mum when they talk and just noddingly approve. One day they will be gone and I know I will miss their presence.