My first college break ends as I sit on the long-haul flight from San Francisco to Boston. Six hours to kill and my only activities are watching a downloaded Netflix series that I’m not too crazy about, listening to the same saved playlist on repeat, finishing the last 100 words of my tedious research paper that I told myself I would finish over Thanksgiving, or simply thinking. I reflect upon my first time coming home after starting my freshman year of college.
I originally wasn’t going to come home for Thanksgiving. The flights are expensive, and it’s a long journey. However, my mind changed when I caught a terrible cold that stayed with me throughout the entire month of October. I called my parents from urgent care begging them to let me come home for Thanksgiving. I needed some vitamin C from the California sun.
By the time break came around, I became a lot more settled at Brandeis. My exciting and fast-paced college life had to be put on pause for a week. Going home was bitter-sweet, but mostly sweet because I couldn’t wait to see my family and friends. As soon as I got off the plane, I went to meet my best friend, and we resumed our usual shenanigans.
Driving down the main streets and seeing the occasional familiar face from my high school was an odd experience. I was home, yet I felt like this place was not my home anymore. I didn’t have my high school to connect me to the community I once felt. I quickly became bored with the typical things I would do in town, realizing that Boston is really the place for me.
Becoming so independent in college was juxtaposed to the watch of my parents. Although they give me a massive amount of freedom, living on my own at college was vastly different. It was abrupt to change from complete independence surrounded by young adults to living under the same roof as my parents.
It was relaxing and refreshing to make the journey home. I loved seeing my family and close friends. However, going home allowed me to conclude that I’m ready to be independent and make the world mine.