Dear Winter Break,
Throughout my time at college, we have developed a love-hate relationship. You are a complex concept that I am still struggling to grasp. After finals are over and I am a sleep-deprived zombie, you are there with a halo over your head to rescue me. Our first few days together are so pleasant; I get to sleep all day and binge-watch Netflix. Everything seems to be operating smoothly, but I’ve noticed each year you suddenly betray me. This letter to you should provide enough evidence of your traitor-like acts.
For starters, each break I start off as a carefree college student who just miraculously survived finals, but then you attack me with unwanted responsibilities. You begin to remind me that I have no money, am in desperate need of a job, and that a large amount of my freedom has just been taken away. Like a little devil on my shoulder, you continuously whisper stressful thoughts into my ear.
During my freshman year, I thought you were my friend, but as I grew wiser, I learned that you are not. I learned fairly quickly that rooming with friends is strikingly different than living with a brother that thinks it’s hilarious to hide when you come home, and then run full speed at you with the intent to attack. It took me a while to spot the differences; I learned that my family doesn’t want to order pizza with me at 2 a.m., and that they don’t want to have a private dance party to Justin Bieber with me.
The main factor that changed my feelings about break was when I traveled out of state to visit family. It was in this moment that I realized just how difficult it is to be back home for a month. The holiday season is advertised as a joyful time when Christmas music is blasting, everyone is happy and there are Christmas cookies everywhere you turn. While some people feel this joy, my dad believes that the only way to travel efficiently is for him to turn into a drill sergeant. The day of our departure, two days before Christmas, was a memorable one.
My wake up call was at 6:30 a.m., or “O’dark thirty,” and consisted of my frantic-looking father warning me that we were leaving in 15 minutes whether I was in the car or not. After stumbling out of bed, I seemed to have walked into a war zone. Bags were flying, voices yelling, my mom was running around making sure all the cousin’s gifts were present, and that was only the beginning. How I managed to not hit someone still remains a mystery.
Despite the complications you cause, I wouldn’t turn down the opportunity to be home with friends and family over break for anything. Even if I have to endure being treated like a boy from my brother and having my relatives interrogate me about my life’s plan, a healthy dose of family is always needed.
