There are moments in motherhood that arrive quietly but land like thunder.
This was one of them.
My youngest twin—twenty-seven years old—has purchased a home. In this economy. In a time so unforgiving that even the word starter feels like a relic from another century. It is an accomplishment that deserves to be spoken aloud, admired, honored. I am proud of her in the way that fills the chest and tightens the throat at the same time.
And yet—there it is—the ache.
Because pride and grief sometimes share the same chair.
This economy is ruthless. Not difficult. Not inconvenient. Ruthless. It does not reward youth the way it once did. It does not offer freedom cheaply. It does not allow mistakes without punishment. Housing is no longer a milestone—it is a miracle. And watching your child secure something so rare feels like witnessing both victory and loss in a single breath.
When I was sixteen, I left home.
Not dramatically. Not ceremoniously. I simply went. I had my own apartment. A used car. Paid my electric bill. My car insurance. My groceries. I even attended community college. I was free in the way only the young and unafraid can be—free because the world had not yet learned how to price every inch of air.
It wasn’t because I was wealthy. It wasn’t because I was protected. It was because the numbers made sense back then. They no longer do.
Today, a young person can work endlessly and still remain trapped. Rent devours paychecks. Insurance eats ambition. Groceries demand negotiation. Independence has been turned into a luxury item, and no one pretends otherwise.
So her father and I did what parents are rarely praised for doing anymore—we let our children stay.
No rent. No utilities. No pressure—except the kind that builds, not breaks. The only bills they paid were the ones they chose. The rest went into savings. Into preparation. Into a future we knew the world would not hand them gently.
They also went to work where their father works—a union job that pays more than most four-year degrees promise anymore. Thirty-five dollars an hour. Time-and-a-half after eight hours in a day, not forty in a week. Double time after ten. Triple pay on holidays. The kind of structure that once built the middle class and now survives like a rare species.
And because of that—because of planning, patience, and opportunity—she bought a home.
I should be celebrating without pause.
But there’s a part of me that wishes she would stay just a little longer. Stay in the good life. The one I never had offered to me, even though I somehow managed to afford it anyway. Stay in the safety that took generations of trial and error to learn how to provide.
My childhood was… complicated.
My mother was a single parent doing the best she could with the tools she had. But there were too many men passing through the house. Too much instability. Too much responsibility placed on shoulders still learning how to carry themselves. By the time I was ten, I was caring for my younger sister—five years my junior—cleaning the house, feeding her, managing tasks that children should not have to manage.
If I failed, I was punished. If I succeeded, it was expected.
And yet—those years shaped me.
They gave me skills. Grit. Awareness. Independence sharpened early. I learned how to survive before I learned how to rest. I became a true Gen Xer—resourceful, skeptical, self-reliant, allergic to nonsense.
A Scorpio. A free spirit. A wild child who wasn’t taking anyone’s shit.
And I wouldn’t trade it. Not for anything.
How many people can say they were sixteen in the 1980s, paying their own bills, driving their own car, answering to no one but themselves—and still felt free? The eighties were a strange kind of golden hour. Not perfect. Not fair. But possible.
That world is gone.
So when my daughter closes the door on her own home, I stand in the doorway of memory. Proud beyond words. Tender beyond reason. Grateful that she has what I never did—and quietly mourning the simplicity of a time when independence didn’t require permission from a bank, a union contract, and perfect timing.
This is what parenting looks like in an unforgiving economy.
You don’t push them out.
You build a runway.
You give them what you never had.
And when they finally fly, you wave—even as your heart asks them to circle once more.
Disclaimer
This blog reflects personal experience and generational observation. It is not intended to diminish the struggles of any generation or romanticize hardship. Economic conditions vary widely, and individual outcomes are shaped by many factors. This piece is offered as reflection, not prescription.
References & Context
- U.S. Bureau of Labor Statistics – Historical wage comparisons
- Federal Reserve Economic Data (FRED) – Housing affordability index
- Pew Research Center – Generational economic mobility
- National Association of Realtors – First-time homebuyer trends
- Economic Policy Institute – Wage growth vs. cost of living (1980s–present)
About the Author
A.L. Childers is a Gen X writer, researcher, and storyteller whose work blends lived experience with cultural reflection. Raised in an era of latchkeys and learned independence, she writes about family, economics, power systems, and the quiet emotional truths that live beneath major life transitions. Her work honors resilience without glorifying struggle and believes deeply in giving the next generation what many never received.
ABOUT THE AUTHOR — A.L. Childers
Audrey Childers is a published author, thyroid advocate, wellness writer, and founder of TheHypothyroidismChick.com.
After years of misdiagnosis, exhaustion, weight gain, and “your labs are normal,” she rebuilt her health — and now helps other women do the same.
Books include:
The Keto Autoimmune Protocol Healing Book for Women
Reset Your Thyroid: 21-Day Meal Plan
A Women’s Holistic Holy Grail Handbook for Hypothyroidism
Fresh & Fabulous Hypothyroidism Body Balance
The Witch’s Almanac Cookbook (2026)
The Girl the Darkness Raised: A Memoir of Scarcity, Survival, and Becoming
Healing Stews & Enchanted Brews (Original Edition)
Healing Stews & Enchanted Brews: Holiday Magic
My Grandmother’s Witchy Medicine Cabinet
Enchanted Realms: A Comprehensive Guide to Witchcraft & Sorcery
Enchanted Realms: A Comprehensive Guide to Witchcraft & Sorcery
Reset Your Thyroid: 21-Day Meal Plan
A Women’s Holistic Holy Grail Handbook for Hypothyroidism
Fresh & Fabulous Hypothyroidism Body Balance
The Lies We Loved : How Advertising Invented America
Archons: Unveiling the Parasitic Entities Shaping Human Thoughts
Nightmare Legends
The Girl the Darkness Raised: A Memoir of Scarcity, Survival, and Becoming
The Making of the “Broken Child”: A System Built Before Diagnosis
