2026年北京卷 Passage B

After we had twins and became a family of five, my husband and I decided to move from London back to Yorkshire, to be closer to my parents. Around the same time, they sold their house and we decided to build them a bungalow (平房) in our garden. We moved them in with us until the build was complete.

Packing up my parents’ house felt like a massive goodbye — that bedroom, those memories, the feeling of safety and shelter I always felt there. That evening, I sat in the living room watching TV, temporarily free of my own responsibilities, lost in nostalgia (留恋). Even though I’m a grown woman in my 40s with my own family, it felt scary not to have “home” to go back to.

On our final morning in the house, we took a break from the mind-bending, never-ending work of packing to sit down for that last breakfast. Mum voiced what we were all thinking: It was strange to see the place so empty. I worried that they’d begin to think they’d made a mistake.

“How do you feel?” I asked. There was a silence as Dad continued to drink his tea, and I held my breath.

“Well, it’s pretty awesome, isn’t it?” he replied.

I breathed a huge sigh of relief: I had expected sadness, maybe even doubt, but Dad was already looking to the future. His response had an impact on me.

Yes, it was a huge goodbye in so many ways, but it was also the start of something new — an adventure in multigenerational living. I realised this wasn’t about loss at all, but about movement and trust. Hearing Dad’s cheerfulness, I realised that what I’d been seeing as “the end of an era” was actually the start of a new one. Sitting at the table, making my mini sandwich, I realised I was ready for our next chapter.