A year had passed since the birth of our first child. The occasion was a momentous one for our whole family, and so my in-laws determined to present us with a truly extraordinary giftthey offered us their own flat. Such news could have been a stroke of great fortune for us, yet in my heart I longed for the days we spent in our previous rented lodgings, and I could not help but hold my in-laws partially accountable. After our wedding, my husband and I settled happily for a modest rented flat. We were both toiling hard, faithfully paying the rent each month and keeping in mind our ambition to one day lease a house.
Suddenly, I discovered that I was expecting. We had intended to postpone having children for a few years more, but fate had her own designs. When it became known to my husbands parents that they were soon to become grandparents, they resolved to guarantee every comfort for their future grandchild.
With considerable generosity, my in-laws purchased a cottage in the countryside for themselves, and offered us the keys to their roomy two-bedroom flat in London. Given their affluence, they undertook some minor renovations and assisted us in replacing our old, worn things. We were grateful for such kindness, though we had little say in how anything was chosen or arranged. Appreciative for the gesture, we moved in, unaware that life was soon to become more complicated.
My in-laws began to visit with remarkable frequency, rearranging the furniture to their own taste each time they came. More and more, I felt like a mere guest in my own home, barely able to raise my voice. My mother-in-law even rummaged through our cupboards and pantry, sometimes during our absence. My need for privacy was all but disregarded, as even the placement of so much as a single glass would be critiqued by them. Occasionally, they would conduct a thorough cleaning of the flat, discarding items they deemed unnecessary and leaving us to spend endless hours searching for our missing belongings. On one unhappy occasion, this led to a heated argument between my husband and his father after the latter mistakenly disposed of some important documents, beginning a months-long silence between them.
Now, as I reflect on those days, I recall how my husband is pondering how best to restore our independence, and at last, take back the keys to our home.
