When looking into colleges, 10 hours doesn't seem that far away.

What's 600 miles compared to a breath of fresh air, a new and exciting place, and oodles of freedom?

Well, that's all well and good if you're thriving. If you're excelling academically and if you've found a great group of friends.

And I was lucky. My first semester freshmen year was incredible. School was difficult, but I was doing well. I was balancing being involved on campus and having a thriving social life.

I went home for winter break, celebrated Christmas, and then just waited.

I felt like the break dragged on. I wanted to go back to school and go out with my friends. I missed my classes and being on campus.

Second semester hit me like a ton of bricks. Organic chemistry beat me down again and again. I was so homesick and I wasn't planning on going back to Indiana until the end of the year.

My school year ended and I had never been so relieved.

Flash forward to the following semester.

Sophomore year nursing versus freshman year nursing should not even be compared.

It is infinitely more difficult.

Sleep? I don't know him.

Coffee? We're in a very committed relationship.

But I was managing. I was passing my classes and finding small amounts of time to have a social life. I was slightly homesick, but I knew I at least was going home for Thanksgiving.

And then a bomb rocked my world.

I got a Facetime from both of my parents. Both of my parents.

That doesn't happen.

Something had to be wrong.

My mom was chatting incessantly almost as though she was skirting around something.

"My Doctors, biopsy, surgery...cancer."

Boom.

Cancer.

Six letters.

How the hell do six letters have the power to make you stop breathing? To make you cry for the first time in five months?

Boom.

I have never wanted to go home more than in that moment.

But I couldn't.

Why?

Life.

School, money, obligations.

Sounded like bullshit to me.

As I received more information and the weeks dragged on, I prayed every day. It was malignant melanoma on my mom's face and she was scheduled for two surgeries already at the University of Michigan. So many prayers.

Two nights before Thanksgiving, I flew into my dinky hometown airport in Fort Wayne, Indiana.

I spent literally every waking moment of my break with my family. Besides a bandaid on her face, my mom was her usual self. Stubborn and smiling. Way too much energy for a 52-year-old.

I was so happy.

And then just like that, I had to go back.

I only got four days with them. With her.

Four days.

Unlike my winter break of freshman year, I did not want to go back to school. I wanted to stay snuggled up in my mom's lap sitting at the kitchen table. I was 100% too big to fit on her skinny runner's legs. But, somehow we made it work.

Four days was not enough.

Hell, I don't think forty days would have been enough.

When something in your life happens and to the person who you owe every fiber of yourself to, nothing else is important.

School is nothing compared to family.

An expensive flight versus seeing my mom. Not a question.

Thankfully, by the grace of God, she's going to be okay. At the current moment, my mom is donning a very cute eye-patch.

What I learned in the last few months is that I am nothing without my family.

No matter how many hours I spend with my mom. I want more. I need more.

X number of days is not enough.

-I love you, Momma.