I had almost made it through my first semester of college, and I had yet to experience that overwhelming sense of homesickness that everyone talks about… until now.

November 23, the Eve of Thanksgiving Day. The air screams with eerie silence as I sit in my quiet dorm room. My roommate and most of my friends have gone home for the five day break, and I can count the number of girls left in my hall on one hand. Just yesterday I had been looking forward to having the place mostly to myself so that I could get homework done, and binge-watch "House of Cards;" my plans now seem to be put on the back burner as the overwhelming sense of loneliness cuts through me.

I call my mom, because I need to hear a familiar voice. She asks why my voice seems so small, and I tell her, “I have a lot of homework, and I’m stressed out. I’m fine, really.”

Thanksgiving was never my favorite holiday. In fact, the main reason I ever paid much attention to Thanksgiving was because it provided an excuse to not go to school. I had never realized how many traditions were tied to the holiday, and how much they meant to me growing up. This is the first year I will not wake up to the smell of food being prepared. It is the first year I will not get to help my mom prepare the stuffing or make the pumpkin pie. It is the first year I will not get to argue with my dad over whether we should have turkey or ham- and finally decide to have both. It is the first year I will not get to watch the Macy’s Thanksgiving Day Parade in my pajamas or snuggle up with my dog to watch all the Thanksgiving episodes of Friends. It is the first year I will not get to cringe over all the hand-turkeys I drew growing up that litter the walls of my living room, or fall asleep on the couch after I stuff myself full of food. It is the first year I will not get to spend Thanksgiving with my family.

I have plenty to be thankful for. I am at a wonderful school, filled with wonderful people that I have had the privilege of developing friendships with throughout the past few months. I am in good health, and I have a loving family back home, whom I will get to see in only a few weeks. I have had multiple people invite me to spend Thanksgiving with them. I am safe, warm, and dry. I live in a country in which I am free to speak my mind, practice the religion of my choice, vote, and follow my dreams.

I wonder now, how I could have ever taken any of this for granted. I am filled with envy and longing as I scroll through my Facebook and Instagram feeds and see pictures of my friends reunited with their parents, siblings, and pets; I wonder if they realize what a luxury it is to be able to go back home, if only for a few days, and sleep in their own beds again.

I closed all the windows, but somehow, the room feels colder tonight. I bundle up in the mountain of blankets on my twin sized mattress, and push thoughts of yams and family photos out of my head. As I close my eyes and try to fall asleep, I focus on recalling every possible reason I have to be thankful.