When I was growing up, I was never homesick. It was hard for me to understand why some people were brought to tears at the thought of spending the night in a place that wasn't home. Blissfully unaware of just how crippling homesickness could be, I spent the first three months of my Disney College Program thinking only the happiest and fondest thoughts about the people I'd left behind.

But that's before I watched the commercial that would be my ranch-flavored silver bullet.

When I started my DCP experience, I was 22. Yes, I missed my family and friends, my dog and even my toaster, but I was living and working at Walt Disney World! What greater adventure could I have asked for?

As a kid, probably the biggest deterrent for homesickness was the fact that I was off making memories. Spending a week or two (or three) at camp was something I looked forward to because I was going to get to hang out with my friends and come back home with a story to tell.

During my internship, adulting was a great distraction. I didn't really have time to reflect much between work, classes, exploring and the daily chores we take for granted. Soon, I had been living away from home for not just weeks, but months.

It was right around Thanksgiving when I first noticed the ad.

Opening on a dark and lonely dorm or apartment, a girl of 20-something begins to eat a salad as a guitar strums a melancholy melody off-screen. Slowly, the room becomes brighter. Her little brother and dog appear, playing Frisbee. Her mother appears, setting more food on the checkered table that has faded in to replace her desk.

As she continues to eat, the camera continues to pan, and soon she is at a picnic with her whole family. Her apartment has faded away too, into a sunny park. Everything is vibrant and warm.

And then, suddenly, the daydream fades. She is alone again with only her salad and her bottle of Hidden Valley Ranch Dressing to remind her of the picnic she shared with her family in the park.

"When you've got the taste of the original ranch," says a man in voice over, "things seem a little more like the way they're supposed to be."

All at once, I was the girl in that commercial. I was the one missing my family and friends. It was I who needed things to be "a little more like the way they're supposed to be."Although it wasn't the first time I had cried since leaving home, it was definitely the worst. That commercial had got the best of me, and I was in tears before I made it out of the living room. For the first time ever, I felt crushed under the weight of homesickness. I was a total wreck.I'd like to say that it got better and that all I needed was a good cry, and for the most part, that was true. But any time that commercial came on, even if I only heard the slow strumming of the guitar, my eyes would well up. Is this what my bunkmates felt like at camp all those years ago? Is this what my new, CP friends struggled with every time they called home?

This 30-second television spot had opened my eyes to a new truth: it's okay to cry over the ranch dressing. Being homesick is a natural response to change, and there's no shame in it.

Even now, 10 years later, I still get homesick. Moving away from my hometown when I got married was hard. Sadly, no matter how much ranch dressing I put on my salad, there is no family picnic that appears for me. But it's okay, because there's nothing wrong with missing the people you love and care about.