Leaving for college the first time is tough. You have your family: the people who have, literally, been your "day ones". The crying mother, the choked up father, and the siblings who pretend to be excited that you're leaving, but actually feel pretty lost. Then, there's your hometown: the only place you've really known all your life. Leaving room for people who have moved at a younger age, wherever you're living before going off to college is a prominent symbol for comfort, safety, and security. And, last but certainly not least: your friends from home: the family you made.
It was mind-blowing for me, when I realized that my friends weren't on the "Things You Should Bring" list for college. After going through twelve years of Catholic education, I can say it's an understatement that I've been used to ONLY being around people from my kindergarten class, or known from my freshman year of high school.
These friends of mine and I did a lot of our "firsts" together, like learning how to tie shoes together, learning how to get into trouble together, and learning how to succeed together. It can be a scary world out there, but I had my peeps. That's all I needed--and quite frankly--all I thought I would ever need.
But when we began high school, the word "college" was brought into our vocabularies. I had friends with older siblings that went to this magical place, where they seemed to just disappear, until a holiday or summer vacation, when they would return home. My friends and I analyzed this so-called "college" as if it was only to be found in a distant nation. For us, it was a single entity, rather than thousands of prestigious academic facilities all over the world.
Fast forward from kindergarten, to freshman year, to the second-to-last week of August. We strolled through our senior year with ease, missed homework, and the tickling sensation of FINALLY getting ready to go to school. Our 14 year-old selves would never have thought we'd be excited to leave our family, home, and friends. Ironically, we weren't. It wasn't until the goodbyes were over, the tears were shed by people other than our parents, and the first few nights of awkward silence in our dorm rooms that we wished we could press replay. But, college became fluent to us; we could speak the language, walk the walk, and fully embody the new person we were becoming, and meeting knew "day ones" along the way.
After a great first year, you FINALLY get to come home (yes, college students are quite picky when it comes to wanting things we can't really have). Now we were back in square one: sad to say goodbye to your college friends, but excited to be back home and see everyone else. We get there, and our summers began with massive amounts of take-out and Netflix binge watching. For me, the Long-Island-beach runs were incredible; it wasn't the beaches that made me happy, but it was the friends who I was finally seeing outside of FaceTime. The summer goes by, and the DREADED, UNANTICIPATED, yet TOTALLY OBVIOUS second round of goodbyes unearths its' ugly head. You thought our first goodbyes was bad? Oh, boy... It's funny, because a college student never expects something to end; I've discovered that routine is a gift and a curse.
It's August, and my friends from home and I are ready to embark on our second adventure: Sophomore year. We thank each other for the laughs, accidental (and possibly traumatizing) nights, and for being there after a whole 8 months of (almost) complete separation. As we go, and as we start our second year of college, we recognize good things come to an end, but we're all going to have a kick-ass time when we see each other again.
