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Going Home

 Written by    January 2, 2018

Perhaps one of the hardest parts about going to college is the fact that you will at times wonder where your real home is. Is home the place you left all those months ago? Is it the place where you played in the streets as a young child? Or is it quaint dorm room that you have surprisingly come to love? These are the questions that I seem to be mulling over in my mind this Christmas break.

Up until now, I have not been “home” for more than five days at a time. I have gotten used to the daily grind down in Columbus. The long 7 a.m. haul to biology every other day seemed like common place and the unlimited grilled cheese at Scott was a treasure that I took advantage of far more often than I would like to admit. Down in Columbus, everything is always moving. People congregate, laugh, and hang out in the dinning halls, and High Street is always full of people having a good time. The college experience was at first surprising and strange in comparison to my more quiet and laid back hometown but now it feels almost like normal.

When I came back home just a short two weeks ago, it was a strange experience. Everything was just how I had left it. The local Chipotle was filled with kids that went to high school with me, the roads by the high school were crowded on Friday nights as people vied for seats at the basketball games, and my room was just how I left it. Everything was so unchanged that it felt as though I would wake up the next morning and head off to school, just like I did the year before. At the same time, though, everything was different.

When I met up with all my old friends, everyone had new and exciting stories to share. It was strange because for once we were all talking about experiences that we shared with other people. No longer were we chatting about mutual experiences. At first this came as a bit upsetting, and a pang of nostalgia seemed to overcome the room we shared. After awhile, however, we too seemed to fall right back to where we came from and who we have all known each other to be.

It is strange spending so much time so far away from all of the people you’ve known your whole life. When the people that shaped you into who you are today now reside in places as far as Boston, it can seem a bit confusing as to where you fit in in this great big world. Having come back, though, I now realize that home is not a place but a feeling. I feel at home when I am bunkered in my dorm room late at night with a box of Insomnia cookies, studying with my friends. I also feel at home when I am laying on the couch with my mom watching Netflix. My home is a place that takes residence in the people that I care about. It can be strange having to accept this more figurative sense of the word, but it is a reminder that we are so much more than the physical objects we are tied to.

Author, Campus Life, Personal

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