If you were anything like me, your freshman year was one of tantalizing excitement. It was a year of new beginnings, new friendships, new things to be seen, new ways to be heard. Everything was new and shiny, and you were one of the few who was not at all sad about leaving the walls of your high school behind.
I was always independent growing up, and I have my parents to thank for cultivating the burning desire I have to see the world and not be afraid of seeing it alone in me. I’m not ashamed to say that I never got painfully homesick during my first year of being at college, despite living farther away than many of my friends do. Being a nine-hour drive and a two-hour plane ride away from home never scared me, it excited me. Of course, I missed my parents and my family (and my cats) but I knew I would return home at Christmas and be able to catch up and spend a lengthy amount of time with them.
Fast forward to sophomore year. I live off campus in an apartment, I have to pay bills, I have to go grocery shopping, I have to take care of myself more than I had to one measly year ago. There’s something about being sick and making your own chicken soup just the way your mom makes it, but still having something be off about it that just makes you miss home. I never thought about being in a dorm as a comfort, but in hindsight it was still a buffer to the collegiate world. Sure, when I was sick for a long two months at the very beginning of my freshman year, I missed my mom and her homemade chicken soup. But I was surrounded by friends, I had my RA to turn to, and so many people were going through the same thing which made it seem less lonely. Now when I get sick, or have to go grocery shopping, or worry about bills, I don’t only miss home but I am appreciative of all that my parents have done for me over the years. How parents go grocery shopping once or twice a week and cook almost daily meals throughout their children’s lives is honestly beyond me. The amount of times I scavenge for something random in my kitchen cabinets because I either forgot to go grocery shopping or had a busy week and couldn’t find the time, and/or was lazy and didn’t feel like hitting pause on that next Netflix episode so I could feed myself and be a normal adult is far too many to count.
It’s a running joke between my roommate and I that we are each others moms. When she’s sick and I make her toast and tea she’ll say “thanks, mom.” When she tells me that I need to get my shit together and clean my room or write an essay, I’ll say the same to her. I’m glad we have each other and it’s great living with someone who can somewhat fill the void of having someone around who you can lean on and who tells you what you need to hear and who will take care of you when you need it, but it really wasn’t until sophomore year when the independence kicked in that I realized how much I missed having my parents around for the little things. I don’t think I’m alone in this either, at least I hope I’m not.
As a freshman, I couldn’t get enough of this new found freedom away from home, but now I find myself missing it more and more. The startling realization that I may never live at home permanently again is also a wake-up call. There’s a certain shift that happens between your first and second year, and while it’s not a bad one at all, it is interesting to watch and experience it occur. While I won’t be booking any spontaneous plane tickets home due to homesickness, I am immensely looking forward to going home for Thanksgiving and asking my mom to make my favorite soups, and my dad to make my favorite homemade tomato sauce.
So thanks for the little things mom and dad! Thanks for having a home cooked meal on the table 90 percent of the time, thanks for going grocery shopping even when you didn’t feel like it, thanks for paying the bills, thanks for buying paper towels, and thanks for doing the dishes. I understand it all now, and what seem like mundane tasks are not the easiest at all.
