Everyone knows that when you go to college, you’re supposed to become a completely different person. I believed this wholeheartedly, but I always thought that it would be into a person with whom I was completely unfamiliar. Instead, I am finding that I become more and more like people I already know.

When I lived at home, I always thought the things my mom did were silly. How she always took a stack of napkins from the dispenser when we got takeout food, how she got frustrated when I didn’t push in the bench on the piano or at the table or left my dirty clothes in a pile on my bedroom floor. She sang or hummed or whistled or danced, all the time, even in public (much to my embarrassment). The way she cleaned the kitchen and the particular manner in which she organized the family room never made sense to me. When I was really little, I was indignant that she didn’t trust me to organize the kitchen or have dominion over the cleanliness of my room. As a teenager, I found it quaint that the glovebox of the car was always full of McDonald’s napkins and that she got mad when the remote went missing despite the fact that she had a designated basket for it right next to the TV. I thought the phrases she used and words of wisdom she repeated were funny and adorable. Now that I’m in college, it’s a completely different story.

To start, I never understood what made my mom so mad about us not pushing in our chairs at the dinner table. Now, wading through a sea of backpacks and chairs in a crowded dining hall, I completely identify. What is so hard about clearing the space between tables? All it takes is two extra seconds of time and you prevent several people from brushing their shins and dropping their food. Things as simple as not leaving clothes unfolded and planning things a week in advance matter way more to me now than they ever did back at home. There is so much that goes into coordinating my own life, and that’s without a bunch of small children to care for. I can’t imagine how my mom survived.

When I lived at home, I didn’t think I spoke anything like my mom. Now that I’m away, I find colloquialisms and unique words have stealthily crept their way into my vocabulary. Now, whenever I leave campus with my friends and someone says they have to use the restroom, I alarm myself by quickly responding (all in good fun), “Why didn’t you go before we left?” I’ve started calling sprinkles “jimmies” and subs “hoagies”. I even borrowed some words from my dad, like “chillun” and pronouncing pecan like [pee-can]. I don’t know why this started happening, but I’m kind of fond of it. It brings an accidental reminder of home into the middle of my everyday life.

But the thing I like best about turning into my mother is that I’m constantly thinking of others. I bring extra snacks, water, blankets, you name it, just in case someone might have forgotten theirs. Of course, this makes me more apt to lose things, but that’s okay with me too. My mom took such good care of us growing up, and I’m so glad that I accidentally managed to pick up on the things she was teaching me, without even knowing it. If I turn out just like my mom, well, that’d be alright with me.