You used to sleep on a futon. You used to stay out so late. You booked flights the same day. You didn’t have health insurance. You skipped meals or lived for weeks on fast food and ramen. You picked passion over pay and ignored future planning, believing it will all somehow “work out.”

You were free. Life was simple. And now all of that is gone, replaced with a minivan and Cocomelon and constantly getting the flu and stepping on Legos and moody teenagers.

How lucky are you?! No, seriously. It’s almost unbelievable how lucky you are.

As the lyrics to the Gang of Youths song goes:

I live with this girl and our kid
I’m as happy as a pig rolled in shit
It’s postcard, I’m settled, a pirate no more
A gypsy at most with no mortgage
It’s boring but in the most exquisite of ways
No carcinogenic and humdrum malaise
And it’s strange, all the things that I’ve run from
Are the things that completeness could come from

This is the dream. Your wilder days gave way to garbage time on the couch with a toddler who can’t stop laughing. You’ve got a kid who stumps you with questions that begin with “Hey Dad, why do…” Your car is now full of teenagers after soccer practice singing along to Taylor Swift.

You are finally settled. You are an adult. A pirate and gypsy no more. You have people who love you, people to take care of—and people who take care of you in turn. You don’t have to go searching out in the world to find purpose and fulfillment. You’ve found your place in the world. It’s a place called home. It is a thing called family.