I brought Matt to my parents’ house last night for his first Passover seder ever. He’d already met my parents and my brother before, but I was looking forward to bringing him to my hometown, giving him a tour of the house in which I grew up, and introducing him to the family dog. He also got to taste my mom’s cooking for the first time. As for the seder itself, Matt was a real trooper — he wore a yarmulke and read from the Haggadah. It was so neat to expose him to all these aspects of my childhood: my parents’ house, the room that used to be my bedroom, the family photos on the walls, some of my relatives — all these things that are part of my history and that have contributed to who I am.

(I also gave him a glimpse of my mom’s huge collection of Playbills going back to the 1960s. Maybe next time he’ll be able to pore over all of them.)

At the end of the evening, my dad drove me, Matt, my brother, and my brother’s girlfriend back to the city. It was nice not being the odd one out anymore, and it was cool to casually mention to my dad that he didn’t need to drive me back to my apartment because I was going to, ahem, stay in the city. Hey — if my brother and his girlfriend can talk about it, so can I. I’ve recently realized how laissez-faire and laid-back my dad has become, after I grew up being so scared of him. Sometimes it takes the perspective of someone else — such as Matt — to remind me what a cool guy he is. I really do love my dad, particularly for being so accepting.