“You call home several times a day?!” I’ve become all too familiar with this phrase. Yes, I call home every day. Yes, I’ll call home to catch up with my mom, yes, I’ll call home to talk to my dad when I’m in a dilemma and yes, I’ll call a third time that same day if I need a favor from my brother.

Flashback to the last few weeks of summer when everyone can’t wait to get out of Clarksville and officially become a college student. I was overcome with excitement as I began my final packing for my new room, but even then I felt a tinge of apprehension, which I just casually brushed off, telling myself I’d be just fine. But little did I know that within the first few hours of moving in, my emotions were in for a big surprise. The initial excitement faded, and all I had left was the sadness and frustration from being alone in a new place where I didn’t know anyone except maybe my roommate. Obviously it all got better, but it wasn’t until these moments when I realized what the word “home” really meant to me.

There are some days when I call home where I’m yearning for moments when I can get undivided attention from my parents so that I can squeeze in everything I want to tell them, even if it’s the smallest of things and the least interesting of things like which dining hall I went to for lunch that day or when I think I’m going to do my laundry next. There were times when I knew I should hang up the phone and call at a later time because clearly everyone was really busy, but I couldn’t seem to let go so they could do their own thing. Somewhere, deep down, I knew I felt sad because I felt left out — I wanted to be going to Costco with them as much as I hate that store. As silly as it is for me to think this, I thought that once I left for the year, my parents were going to forget I was a part of the family too.

I know so many people, especially within my own friend group, who don’t call home more than once a week so that they can avoid the mundane conversations their parents have with them. But it’s simple. Just as their parents miss having them around every day and desperately missed their children on the other end of the phone call, I frantically longed for time with my family.

It’s very easy to take the wealth of love we receive at home for granted. But you really don’t realize what you have until it’s not so easily accessible anymore. I do miss home, and there are days where all I can think about is the next time I get to go home.

But I hate complaining about being homesick; sometimes others will admit that they’re homesick too and sometimes others will groan and tell me to grow up and learn to live away from home. Then that’s the worst because now I just sound like I’m ungrateful and I don’t value the presence of everyone else around me. And now it suddenly becomes difficult for me to understand the definition of home. Is it here with all these people or is it back in the town I couldn’t wait to leave at one point in my life?

To me, home means listening to the news every day during dinner. Home means having a set spot at the dinner table. Home means having silent fights with my brother to see who can blast their music the loudest. Home means annoying my dad in the car until he plays Hindi music. Home means helping my mom out in the kitchen. Home means being able to crawl into my parents’ bed after a bad dream.

Home means constantly arguing with my brother. Home also means irritating my brother until he gives me a hug.

Home means embracing my culture. Home means family Hindi movie nights. Home means getting to see my whole collection of Indian clothes (yay!).

Now I know why I feel like my home is flying out of my grip. I lived 17 years before I came to college, and in that time I’ve experienced so many significant events that I’ll hold close to my heart forever. Yes, it’s no fair that I have to miss out on lots of things at home now that I’m away, but it’s silly that I once punished myself for being homesick.

After a whole year of being away from home, I’ve learned that I can expand my definition of home without losing what I had before. Home means my family but now also means this new place I get to experience and all these wonderful people I’m lucky enough to have met. Being homesick has taught me to appreciate this abundance of love much more than I ever have; it has taught me to overcome the pain of being miles away from it and see the silver lining in every situation.