When the Roles Reverse

Growing up is often celebrated with cheers and milestones, graduations, first jobs, new cities, and independent lives. But what no one tells us is that growing up also comes with a silent shift. One that slowly, almost unnoticeably, turns our world upside down. When we were children, we waited eagerly for our parents to come home. We’d run to the door at the sound of the gate, jumping with excitement. Evenings meant hugs, stories, scoldings, and warmth. They were our entire world, their presence meant safety. Their voice meant comfort. But today, we are the ones leaving home. Rushing for early morning cabs, catching flights, stuck in meetings, planning for tomorrow. And now, they are the ones waiting. Waiting for our calls. Waiting to hear the key turn in the door. Waiting for a Sunday that might bring us home. This reversal doesn’t happen in a single moment—it happens in small bits, like a quiet breeze. You won’t notice it until one day, you're packing your bag to return to the city and your mother quietly says, “Call me when you reach.” Her voice softer than before. Or when your father stands at the gate just a little longer, watching you leave, holding back words and emotions.

Let me tell you a story.

A friend of mine, Rahul, who works in Bangalore, once shared something that stayed with me. His father used to wait every evening by the gate, pretending to water the plants around 7:00 PM, just around the time Rahul used to return from college. That routine stopped the day Rahul moved out for work. But when Rahul went home recently, he found his father doing the same thing, watering those same plants at 7:00 PM. "It’s a habit," his father smiled. But Rahul knew it wasn’t a habit. It was a hope. A memory his father wasn’t ready to let go. And that’s how it is for most of our parents. They don’t always say it. They rarely complain. But they wait. Their days are slower now. Their world has shrunk a little. And while they’re happy for our growth, our freedom, and our journeys, a part of their heart still clings to the days when we were home by 6:00 PM.

Growing up makes us realize that our parents are growing old too. And they’re doing it quietly. No drama. No declarations. Just slower walks, more doctor visits, and stories of "how things used to be." We’re caught in our own storms, deadlines, dreams, careers, relationships. And while it's natural, it’s important we pause sometimes. Because for everything they gave us, education, courage, love, values, we owe them something that doesn't cost much: time. Call them, even if it’s for five minutes. Ask about their day. Visit home when you can. Sit with them. Listen to their repeated stories. Laugh at their little jokes. Let them feel that their presence still matters. Because it does. Life has its own way of teaching us what really matters. And by the time we understand, sometimes, we find ourselves sitting by a window, waiting for someone to come home. The roles, after all, always reverse.

So, next time your phone rings and it says “Mom” or “Dad”, don’t swipe it away for later. Because they’ve waited all day to talk to you. And one day, we might find ourselves waiting too.