The impatience of going home makes me twitchy and anxious. I still had three hours and another class to go, but all I could think about was home, home, home. I had been there only a day ago, but somehow the excitement and anticipation is the worst it had ever been. Two hours left and I tap my fingers quickly against the table, trying to find something to occupy my mind and failing. Watching mindless television doesn't help as it usually does and Netflix doesn't seem appealing. Class begins and I cannot concentrate. When my phone buzzes, my heart leaps and my brother's message that they have arrived to bring me home flashes on the screen. Finally, I go and I feel like running to the parking lot. I hasten to my room, grab my things, and hobble quickly back to the car. As we drive off campus, I feel a knot loosen in my stomach and I smile, content and relaxed. I am finally going home.

Being in the dorms and being at home are two different experiences. They are two sets of memories and family and feelings. Dorms are social since there is always someone to talk to and you must accept the fact that being alone is virtually impossible concept. Dorms are school, tests, stress. Dorms are no energy because sleep is for those who do not fear missing out and your friends are more interesting than anything you could dream. Dorms are for loud nights and loud mornings, monotonous food, and staying on your feet all day, going from class to class, activity to activity. Dorms are communal bathrooms and the necessity for shower shoes.

Home is personal; being alone is normal. Home is being able to listen to music and shut your eyes, not having to worry about someone knocking on your door. Home is calm, relaxing, and a peaceful mind. You sleep because you are unconcerned with having to be involved. There are no parties, no activities, no constant friends. Home is recharging after continuous contact, not having to talk or be friendly because your family knows you at your worst and understands. Home is quiet nights and lazy mornings, real food, and watching television on your couch all day because you cannot be bothered to move. Home is long, hot showers, and not worrying if someone will accidentally move the curtain of the shower, despite it never possibly happening. Home is familiarity. Home is unworried and unhurried. Home is home -- there is no place quite like it.

As we pull out of the driveway, the knot in my stomach returns and a sense of longing already shoots through my body. Another week until the next time I can return and I miss home, though I just left not a minute ago. Twenty minutes and the dorm comes into view, a familiar yet unwelcoming building. I hug my mother and father a little tighter and I drag my things to the elevator. When I unlock my dorm room door, I drop my things and sigh. While I am glad to see my friends -- my family -- again, I yearn for home. And maybe I always will.