"I love you Mom!"

"I love you more."

"Agree to disagree!"

That's the usual way I end phone calls with my mom. She and I have been getting into this playful argument for as long as I can remember. It's quite fitting for us, two very stubborn people with a solid knack for finding something to disagree about with just about anybody...especially each other. Trust me though, even the loudest spats always come with a solid foundation of affection, something I was lucky enough to grow up with in spades. I come from a house where to have a small family gathering meant to buy out the entire grocery store and move furniture. Then when we all finally got together, you hardly had time to catch your breath between rib-cracking hugs and loud, lipstick-smearing kisses.

Yeah, love was never in low supply, and despite all of my appreciation, it was something that was easy for me to take for granted. When I went away to college, I had no idea just how much I relied on it. That's something I realized in stages though, amidst the excitement of hopping the one-way plane ride to a school I had only seen in pictures. Realizing that I was truly away from my family and loved ones isn't something that hit me at once. While logically I knew that things are going to change, nothing could have really prepared me for those moments where I felt well and truly alone. They never hit when I expected it either. I didn't feel it when my parents drove away for the last time; as hard as it was, that was something I was braced for. Nor did I feel it going to bed that night. Nothing happened at any of the expected times.

I felt it when I saw my brother's pictures of our dogs on Instagram. I felt it eating eggs from the cafeteria and not being able to ignore the lack of Adobo. I felt it every time my friends who lived closer by would leave campus for the weekend to go home. Though, I think the hardest I felt it was when I got sick for the first time, and had to haul my own damn self to the doctor, sans soup and back rubs from my mom. Not a good feeling, I'll tell you that. In hindsight, I probably should have been more diligent with the hand sanitizer considering my new, heavily populated living situation. Regardless, as I sat there in the waiting room with a Niagra Falls nose, the realization that I was really in this on my own brought the waterfalls a little further North on my face.

Of course, I was being dramatic; I wasn't actually in it on my own, though in that moment it certainly felt like it. My loved ones were still supporting me. We only had to learn to channel that support and love in different ways, to cope with the changes that came with me not only leaving the house, but being across an entire actual ocean. When you grow up like I did, constantly surrounded by physical assurances, contact, a hug always within arms reach, this transition was challenging, and one that I will most likely never actually get used to. However, there were ways that I learned to combat the beast of homesickness and find new ways to connect with my family.

Don't get me wrong, dynamics between yourself and your family won't be entirely new, it is a sort of adaption. For example, just like with my mom, I had my unique ways of conveying love with all of my family, true to each individual relationship. When I lived at home and would go out, my dad would never fail to give me the run down of any possible scenario that could "go down" and what to do in each case. For him, always my protector, and the owner of the voice inside my head whenever I find myself in a sticky situation, that was a way of showing love. When I went to school, that translated to calling him regularly, especially when I was doing something new and not exactly "campus sanctioned", and making sure he knew I was okay. While safety was never the first thing on my mind (sorry), that simple gesture on my part would make worlds of difference to him, and that kind of consideration is the most important thing in remaining close.

Consideration and understanding with your family is something I would recommend to anyone leaving home for the first time, lord knows you exhausted theirs quite often while growing up. Just calling to say hi, and tell them what you're up to, goes miles in remaining close. It's very easy to feel like you're in different worlds, especially when you're experiencing all these new things and your schedule rivals that of the White House Chief of Staff, but it will do wonders for the comfort levels of everyone involved. Honestly, you might surprise yourself in how often you'll want to get a hold of mom, dad, or grandma. Not even just to ask them for money either.

Seriously, call them.

Another one of the hardest things about being away from my family was missing a lot of important events, and feeling generally out of the loop. It's hard to see the amount of things that can happen between drop-off and Christmas. Siblings and cousins were growing, parents and grandparents were getting older, birthdays and award ceremonies and graduations and celebrations were all flying past, and I wasn't there. It's hard not to feel guilty when you leave your baby godson, and then come back to a toddler who doesn't recognize you. No matter how much you tell yourself that this is necessary, that your education is important, that you're growing up, there will always be a dark cloud of doubt hanging over you. With every picture you see on Facebook of a missed basketball game or baby shower, you'll silently ask yourself if this is worth it. And there is never any easy answer to that question. All you can really do is stay as involved as you can, through regular calls, and make the time you do spend with them as meaningful as possible. I had to remember that being present doesn't always have to mean being physically there. There are people who spend every day with their families, and yet aren't as actively involved as those who are far away, yet make an effort to be in their lives.

Homesickness is never something you'll ever actually get over, the trick is finding ways to make it not something that impedes your life. I know my loved ones would never want me to be missing them at the expense of my grades and activities. They wanted me to be happy. And I was happy, I am happy. The unconditional love my family raised me with is a malleable, versatile, and very transportable thing; no matter how far I go, it will always be there waiting. Time and distance may change the way it's expressed, and it definitely changes us, but what won't change is the love they have for me, which is something to always fall back on.

And it definitely won't change the love I have for them, either. After all, I love them more. And if they think I'm wrong, I guess we'll just have to agree to disagree.