Staring at the clock in your afternoon class, you sit in anticipation. With every tick of the hands, you wonder what it was you forgot. Did you remember to print your ticket? Did you pack enough socks? What time was your flight again? When the professor lets you out, you race to your dorm and throw all your stuff together. With a bag full of dirty clothes, you start the long trek to the airport for your weekend trip home.
Going through the airport is as stressful as any midterm you’ve ever faced. Do you tip the sky cab or the TSA people? Do you really need to weigh your bags before you go? How did your parents make this look so easy? Since you inevitably forgot about the whole two-hour rule, your flight is probably boarding by the time you arrive. You run to the terminal, shoes untied with a ticket in hand and pray to the airport gods that the gate will still be open when you get there. You’re in luck; it is. You sit down next to that mom with her screaming kid who's mad because she got the peanuts instead of the pretzels. The mom, fast on her feet, pulls out some rainbow goldfish, and the demon child is replaced with a perfect angel. You throw on your headphones and spend the rest of the flight pondering the perplexities of parenthood.
Everything changes when you get off the plane. The nagging feelings of forgetfulness and the frustrations of travel get replaced with excitement for a home-cooked meal and a laundry machine that doesn't cost $3 a load. Your mom and dad arrive at the terminal and hug you like they haven't seen you in a decade. They load your bags in the same beat up minivan you learned how to drive in, and you head home.
You walk through the door and immediately rush to your old room, throwing you bags down and sinking into your bed; the same bed that holds memories of blanket forts, slumber parties and that time that you snuck your boyfriend in when your parents were asleep. As you begin to drift off, you smell garlic and marinara sauce wafting in from the kitchen. You sit down with your family to a home-cooked meal that isn't burned or over-seasoned. You laugh about that annoying airplane kid, and this is the moment you really feel at home.
As the weekend goes on, you fall back into old patterns. Your mom starts your load of laundry, insisting you’ll throw it all together and destroy your clothes. Let’s be honest, she’s probably right. Your dad slips a $20 in your wallet when you’re not looking. For those few days, you’re taken care off the way you used to be, and it’s a magical feeling. What was once your life, is now a vacation, and you realize how much you took it for granted.
Sunday night hits, and it’s time to go back to school. Your laundry is clean, and your stomach is full. As you walk up to the departure gate for your flight home, a $5 is waiting readily in your hand. You tip a sky cab with a new sense of assuredness. You think to yourself, “I got this,” and you go back to school, ready to uncover whatever else you still need your parents for.
