Home -- a concept we college students used to think we knew so well.
If someone were to ask me a year ago, “Where is your home,” I had a response. Without hesitation or confusion, I had a response. I knew it in my heart. It was where I had lived for 18 years. It was where my friends were. It was where my family was. It was home. Nothing else would replace that. How could it?
You see, when I was sent off to college, nobody told me that things would change. Nobody told me that this campus would become more than just buildings I sleep and study in. Nobody told me that when they would ask me, a year later, where my home was, I would struggle to come up with an answer, switching between college and Missouri, college and Missouri, college and Missouri.
Stepping foot onto the Ohio State campus for the first time and peering out over what seemed to be endless, foreign land, buildings and faces was scary to say the least. I imagine most everyone else felt this way too…on any campus. College is new, distant, strange and uncomfortable -- not some place your heart can easily grab onto.
Yet.
As I turned to say goodbye to the only part of home I had left, I closed my eyes and felt an overwhelming urge to click my heels together. If it got Dorothy back to Kansas, maybe it would work for me too. But when I readjusted to the lights, I only saw unfamiliar street names, experienced alienated feelings, and heard my mother uttering, “You will be home in a few months.” Take me back now.
Hours passed. I hung pictures and notes to cover the bare, confining walls of my dorm room. Days went by of me walking identical paths and attending the same classes. Weeks accumulated talking to different people and participating in various events. I met my best friend. I found my weekly groups. I spent nights laughing until I thought tears would never stop streaming down my face. I endured moments where arms, once strange, squeezed me so hard as if they were the only glue holding me together. I witnessed times as a student body that were so mesmerizing and unique, linking arms and singing songs with thousands of others, making this huge place feel, oh-so small.
The buildings began to hold meaning as I passed by and recalled some great memory or fun time. The trees started to feel welcoming as they towered over me in beautiful and predictable ways. The open spaces between classes grew to be my backyard, calling me out to play when the weather got nice. My dorm transformed into a house I ran to at the end of a long day, eager to swing open the door and breathe in the fresh scent of familiarity. The people turned into cheery faces, smiling as they greeted me.
I woke up every morning, looking forward to roaming the grounds I knew so well. I left class every day, excited to go to the next event I grew so accustomed to. I went to bed every night, completely content to sleep in a room that felt how my room has always felt for the past 18 years -- like home. Everything -- my room, the dorm, buildings I have never even been into, grass I have never even stepped on -- it all feels like home.
Ohio State -- It is home. 508 miles from Missouri. 508 miles from the place I always thought would house my heart. It wasn’t immediate. It wasn’t guaranteed. It wasn’t easy. Eight hours by car and 1.5 hours by plane -- a place so distant, yet now so close. The comfort, intimacy, love and security -- I feel as if a part of me has known it forever. In a way, though, it has. It always has.
So, if you’re afraid of saying goodbye, terrified of losing what you know, and frightened of what happens when you venture from the place you call home, close your eyes and breathe. Yes, you will search near and far for similar emotions. You will spend nights wishing you weren’t so far away. You will hurt. You will cry. You will endure. You will fall. You will want to give up. But, you will also discover. You will love. You will laugh. You will smile. You will grow. You will experience. You will find yourself.
Don’t get discouraged. Don’t let yourself lose hope. This is just the beginning. Change won’t happen overnight. Be patient. Be brave. Be optimistic. Be open-minded. And most importantly, be prepared because when someone asks you a year from now, “Where is your home?” -- you might not know the answer.
