In the years leading up to high school graduation and the moment we move out from our parents’ homes, we wish for nothing but independence. The freedom to act, think, and live without the constant supervision we knew at home.
For me, home is Lancaster, PA—the land of farmer’s markets and Amish country. As my college move-in day drew nearer, all I could envision was how ready I was to leave behind my hometown and everyone in it. I needed to meet new people, expand my horizons, spread my wings and fly, etc. Really, any cliché ‘leaving home’ phrase would have been applicable to the way I felt about finally moving out.
During my entire first year at college, the novelty of independence was all I knew. I loved being able to come back to my room whenever I wanted, choose when and what I ate for dinner, and not have to answer to any authority when it came to making decisions. Every responsibility was my own, and I relished in the thought of it all.
However, as my freshman year drew to a close, I began to long for the care and nurture that I associated with home. Some hard-hitting realities arose during my first year of college, and it was then that the presence of the real world began to bear down on me. I ended my long-term high school relationship, applied for my first credit card, and my grandparents both passed away within six months of each other. These, along with a series of other events, really solidified for me that my true childhood had officially ended. I’m not saying I’ve suffered some of the hardships of other college students on campus; in fact, I’m fortunate to have parents that financially support the opportunity for me to receive an education, among many other privileges that I know others do not have
That being said, sophomore year of college has brought a new meaning to the word “home" for all of us. In the past, each break spent at my house only prompted me to count down the hours until I could return back to what I believed to me my true home: the school I loved, with the friends I had now adopted as my second family.
With time, my opinions shifted in a different direction. As the stress of a heavier course load and far too many responsibilities weighed heavily on my shoulders, once tarnished images of home began to flash through my head as fond memories. I longed to see the rolling cornfields, count the silos on a drive through the country, and catch a whiff of the distinctive stench of manure that could only mean one thing: home. I wished to taste that first bite of a fried eggs and brie sandwich at my favorite café or feel the hot sun beating down on my shoulders as I ran down the open back roads near my neighborhood. Above all, I wished to return to the simplicity my life had been before I began this most recent stage.
When faced with the immense stress and burden of growing up, we want nothing more than to revert back to the comfort of our childhoods.
Despite all of the homesickness, the one thing that enabled me to continue on each day has been an extensive support system. We all possess this in some shape or form, whether it means our parents, childhood friends, school “family," or our mentors. They’re the reason why we continue to persevere in whatever life throws at us, be it a demanding academic schedule or a crazy work life. Their fortitude is what pushes me to do my best and lifts me up when I’ve hit rock bottom. In gaining their support, they’ve given me a new reason to believe in “home.”
Although Lancaster will always be my hometown, I’ve now realized that home is wherever your support network lies. And for that, I thank my parents, friends, and family. Whenever I’m with you, I know that I am home.
