I remember crying on my first day of preschool.
Though I’d only been four years old at the time, I can remember the sinking feeling in my chest as I watched my mom walk out through the classroom door bidding me one final smile and wave of her hand. It’ll be okay, her body language suggested. You’ll have fun. The school day will be over before you know it. And, of course, I only attended preschool for a few hours a day, a couple days a week. It was simple and temporary. But that didn’t stop my four-year-old self from crying out in the sudden fear and loneliness that struck me.
Fast forward a year to kindergarten, and my first day went about the same way. Three hours away from home had suddenly become seven and I had to go every day. I can recall the baffled expressions of those around me as I cried and cried, leading the teacher to ask the other kids to play with and look out for me throughout the day to cheer me up.
And now I’m eighteen years old, embarking on my first week of college, and I’ve suddenly become four years old again.
Don’t get me wrong—I’m excited. So excited. I’ve already made great friends at LMU and am eager to get involved with activities on campus. I’m also thrilled to be living in the same city as many relatives who I’d only ever been able to see during trips to Los Angeles for holidays.
At the same time, though, I’ve never been fond of change, as I’m sure you may have noticed in my recent article about leaving behind younger friends in high school. Things that totally disrupt what I’ve come to view as routine and constant in my life stress me out to no end. Starting preschool meant spending time away from home, my stay-at-home dad, and my younger sister, and only seemed to increase the distance between my mom and I while she was away at work during the day, which made me feel lonely. Despite having a good group of friends going into my college experience, I can’t help but feel…misplaced. It’s like someone picked me up and forgot to put me back where I belong, which is with my family in Sacramento.
(Not to mention that the song “Ready, Set, Don’t Go” from the "Hannah Montana" TV series, which is sung by Billy Ray Cyrus and Miley herself and is about Miley Cyrus growing up, has been playing on repeat in my head for the past week)
So watching my family leave my dorm room last weekend to make the trek back up to Sacramento left me feeling anxious and strangely empty. My brain’s been shouting all kinds of “I never should have…”s and “I should have just…”s at me in the time since. Is this the feeling of homesickness?
I think it is.
Just like preschool and kindergarten, I’ve found myself unable to stop crying at times. But that’s OK. Feelings are feelings; bodily reactions reflect what we’re going through and can even help lessen the heavy mental burden.
Maybe my time in Sacramento has come to an end, but my time has yet to stop completely. It continues in a new setting, just as season two of Marvel’s "Agent Carter" brought the legendary Peggy Carter to Los Angeles from her home in New York to continue fighting baddies. I can do that, I can be like Peggy. I’ve even got a bobble head figure of her overlooking my desk as I type this (specifically, a Funko Vinyl Pop figure, for those collectors out there reading this).
In one of my favorite games, "Pokémon Mystery Dungeon: Explorers of Sky," as the character Grovyle, who has been a longtime friend to the protagonist, exits the game for good, he tries to reassure the other characters with an allusion to "Romeo and Juliet": “Parting’s such sweet sorrow.” He then goes on to say, “Though the parting hurts, the rest is in your hands.”
As I left Sacramento and the people it’s placed in my life, I felt a sentiment similar to that which Grovyle’s parting words first stirred up in me years ago when I first played "Explorers of Sky." Yes, the parting does hurt; it’s left me gasping for air and trembling in fear. But the rest of my life—where I go, what I do, the new memories I make — that’s all up to me. It’s in my hands.
So here I come, LMU. Watch out, adulthood. Madison Foote, through her tears, laughter and excitement, has arrived.
(…As have several of my Pokemon plushies and figures from home.)
