One of the best things about summers in college is getting to go home. Yes, we work ungodly hours but at least we get to come back to our own bed and mom's cooking. I sat in my dorm back in May counting down the finals that I had left until I was able to go back to where I grew up. It's hard to think though that I'll never have the chance to count that down again.

My mom has been talking to me for years about selling that house. But I never actually thought that she was going to do it. It was one of those things that we brushed over every month or so.

Within a few weeks of coming home this summer, I had the pleasure of watching the realtor hammer the for sale sign into the ground. Within forty-eight hours, the house I've lived in since I was five had been sold and we had started the process of moving away from the town that had always been called home.

I spent the better half of my summer asking myself where I was going to sleep for the last third of it. Luckily for me, my parents had gotten the closing date pushed until the end of July so I had some time to think it through.

My siblings, though, were a little more pressed for time. Whereas I could move in with my dad for the last month, they had to figure out a living situation. One of them could have moved there with me, but it wouldn't have been the ideal situation for him. So he and my sister were forced to start apartment searching to find a new place that they could call home.

The last few weeks of July approached faster than any of us thought they would. As soon as my parents returned from England we rushed to pack, throwing out whatever we could in attempt to minimize the amount that needed to be moved to its new location.

I moved into my dad’s house the last week of July days before the closing of my mom’s. Days later on August fifth we departed Connecticut and set off for the sunny shores of North Carolina where we would hopefully find a new house.

Unfortunately for me though, whereas my siblings and parents may have found their new homes, I have found myself homeless. I had always thought of the term as meaning that one is lacking a place to live, but now I define it as being without a place to call home. I have spent the last two weeks trying to get to know North Carolina, but will fly back to Connecticut to move into my new dorm which will undoubtedly become my new “home away from homelessness.”