I have two homes, 1003 miles apart from each other. It takes 45 minutes on the T, an hour and a half in the airport terminal, 2 hours and 35 mins in a plane, 30 minutes at baggage claim, and another 45 minutes in the car to get from one to the other. And I wouldn’t have it any other way. When it comes to picking colleges a lot of people have a, I can’t be more than ___ hours from home on their checklist. I had the philosophy that the farther, the better. This is something I still stick to today. Why you may ask? well.
It’s a Whole New World. *cue the Disney song* When you go to college far away, it’s not just a new room; it’s a completely different universe. Nobody has heard of your high school, nobody knows you because your grandpa was their doctor, and nobody remembers that you were that freakishly tall girl who hit 5’8” in 6th grade. All the chain restaurants you’ve grown up with don’t even exist in this part of the country (I miss you everyday, Portillos). There are new sports teams to root for, heck, even new sports! Who knew sailing could be competitive?
Well, Massachusetts found a way that’s for sure. You quickly learn to accept that Tom Brady is a “god” who can do no wrong and get to participate in a Super Bowl celebration for the first time in your lifetime (blaming you, Jay Cutler). You get to learn a whole new vocabulary: wicked is really, frappe is milkshake, crew neck is noodie, and of course there are a good amount of r’s that end up being pronounced as h’s, pahk, hahboh, ect. You learn a whole new city, in and out, and discover that Boston is one of the most magical places on the face of the Earth. From Newbury, to the Common, to the North End, you become the perfect tour guide to any and all guests who dare to brave the 1,003 mile trek. You get to see all of the facets of yourself in a completely different spectrum. There’s no constant reminders of past mistakes or achievements, which plows a path straight to the future; something that being close to home just can’t do for you. Going to college far away is like a baby bird being thrown from it’s nest, terrifying yet exhilarating, and if you’re sure of yourself you’ll learn to fly.
It’s a Whole New {Old} World: As much as I was ready to get away from my small Chicago suburb, you learn to appreciate it all when you’ve finally flown the coop. Just the simple freedom of driving a car (not down insane Massachusetts roads) makes coming home such a joy. Not to mention the glorious warm burrito that is your down comforter, or the smell of warm baked cookies baked in a real kitchen. The fully stocked pantry and fridge that you can take whatever you want from without worries of low meal plan money or heaven forbid norovirus.
The excitement of having a full month of not having to deal with the Walsh washers or dryers is way to high at the moment. Nostalgia is a beautiful thing but you don’t get to experience it if you’re going home every other weekend, or having your parents drive down and visit all the time. Distance really does make the heart grow fonder, more than I ever believed it could. Maybe it’s just Chicago, but there’s something about this place that sticks with you when you leave it. Maybe it’s all the memories of the masterpieces viewed in the Art Institute, the sounds at Wrigley when the Cubs get a W, the sheer beauty of driving up Lake Shore Drive, the shared joke of how screwed up our state government is, or the solidarity of all us suburban kids who wish we could say we were actually say we were from the city. I find myself drawn to every Illinois kid I meet, like we should automatically be friends just because of our common drivers license. And hey, it’s worked a bit. But if there’s anything I’ve learned it’s that you can take the girl out of the Midwest but you can never take the Midwest out of the girl, something I’d never have figured out if I’d never left.
