Taking an hour-long bubble bath, eating a home-cooked meal, lying on the couch with your four-legged friend curled at your feet – these are the joys of coming home for break. On the long awaited drive toward your freedom from exams, readings, and schoolwork, you think of the high school friends you’ll see, the time you’ll spend with your family, and the relief of not having to wake up for that dreadful 8 AM lab.
You let all of these peaceful thoughts wander through your mind up until the moment you see your family. You embrace each other, happy to be reunited with them, your hometown, your car, and your old friends. In this state of mind you map out all the possibilities of what your break will entail. But in the middle of this euphoric state of mind, where you glorify everything that represents your life before college, you’re interrupted by your mother screaming at your father, “WHO THE HELL TAUGHT YOU TO DRIVE?!” Then, and only then, do you realize that all those wonderful thoughts of quality family time and peaceful relaxation are strictly in your head. YEP, you’re home!
Now, if your mother is calmer than mine, or your father does not insist on taking every opportunity to prove he could be a Formula One racer like my own, maybe this moment won’t wake you up to the reality that you’re back under the ‘rents’ roof. But it’ll come, you just wait …you’ll be taking that mid-afternoon nap, snug in your bed, and suddenly you’ll hear the shrill of your mother’s voice screaming that you better bring down those dishes and that it’s your turn to vacuum the downstairs. You’ll yell back down to her that you’ll do it later…and most likely World War III will break out, and your dad will be called at work to explain that his daughter is lazy, ungrateful, rude, really you can insert your own adjective/curse word here. YEP, you’re home!
As a college student, you’re used to doing things at your own pace and on your own time. You need some breathing room from your parents’ tyrannical rule and constant questions, so you hop in your car. You’re cruising with not a care in the world, and you thank the heavens you finally are reunited with the freedom to not rely on public transportation. Jamming to your girl power music (thank you, Miranda Lambert) with your windows down, you’re on top of the world. You’ve forgotten about the chores that presented themselves during your nap, and you push aside the fact that your sibling annoyed the living sh*t out of you while you tried to finish an episode of Weeds on Netflix. Feeling good as you drive alone, you’re like, “Aw, my hometown. Oh, wow, my high school, the local Wawa. It’s not as bad here as I thought.” But then it happens – you see her. That no good queen bee from high school who practically ruined everyday of your life (your mind allows you to be just that overdramatic) and suddenly your thoughts go from sweet memories to foul curse words. You remember how that two-timing, backstabbing frenemy is STILL hooking up with your ex, and next thing you know Miranda Lambert is BLASTING in a failed attempted to drown out your profanities. As you quickly drive home you contemplate what you could have ever done to deserve an encounter with Satan herself. YEP, YOU’RE DEFINITELY HOME.
Wait, wait, wait, it’s not so bad. You get over yourself and come back to reality when you realize you’ll be chilling with your old friends later that night. You start to turn that frown upside down when you remember you’ll be kicking it with the people who’ve known you since kindergarten. You hop up in that beloved car of yours and turn the key…and then you turn it again…and again. A wudd-do-ya-know! Your cute little Sedan’s engine is shot and you are officially subjected to driving your mom’s station wagon. You think to yourself in this sad, sad moment how NOT sexy you will look rolling up in a car that has seen more years than you have yourself. At this point you’re just like, “K. BYE WORLD…HATE YOU, SO OVER IT.” YEP, you’re home.
But you make it to the party anyway, and you start to tell yourself that it’s all good because you’re with the old crew around a fire, drinking, talking, reminiscing, catching up. As you sip on that not-so-delicious mixed drink, you are soon feeling back on top of the world while you get your buzz on. Right in the middle of you telling your friends about that one crazy night at college, your iPhone beeps. Looking down to see who it could be at this time of night, your ex’s number pops up (because we all know you deleted his name, but still recognized the digits). The convenient “I miss you” pops up on your phone at 2:30 AM and all you can think is BOOTYCALL. Now you’re enraged, and your “I’m a strong, independent, respectable girl – no, WOMAN. Who does he think he is texting me at this hour?” speech starts in loop in your head. Yeah girl, you’re home.
It seems that all the emphasis you put on being home and its unrealistic perfection crumbles as you pack your things to head back to college the next day. In your hungover state of mind, you start to realize that maybe home hasn’t changed. You begin to come to terms with the fact that it, just like college, is reality, and that sometimes we glorify the people and places we’re currently not around.
You finally return to your dorm room to see your roommate has every piece of clothing she has ever owned sprawled out on your bed. Exhausted, you think about how the chores your mother insisted on, the mean people from your past, and your piece of sh*t car maybe aren’t so bad. You slowly remove the mountain of clothes from your bed, only to have your roomie storm into the room minutes later bitching about how her new boyfriend’s ex-girlfriend was texting him, and you try to nod your head to show interest. You finally conclude that life is full of hassles, big and small, and reality follows you wherever you go. As she continues on with her boyfriend saga, you can’t help but think to yourself, “Yep…I miss home.”
P.S. To my mother, father, and brother reading this: Your (slightly annoying) quirks over this spring break inspired this article. I wouldn’t have it any other way. Love ya!
Photo Credits:
http://www.tumblr.com/tagged/overdramatic+ http://gabealabe5742.tumblr.com/post/15834592046