Now that I’m a college sophomore, the back to school season feels so different than it used to. There are no more yellow buses waiting at the end of my street or locker combinations to memorize. Instead, it’s move-in days, long walks across campus, and syllabi that already make my head spin. Still, even in this new stage of life, I can’t help but think about the small traditions that carried me through every school year growing up, the ones I thought were silly at the time but now make me ache with gratitude.
For as long as I could remember, every single first day of school, my dad would insist on snapping a picture before I left the house. Kindergarten through senior year, he never missed one, not even covid. When I was little, I’d pose proudly in my jeggings, purple glasses and brand-new polka dot backpack. By middle school, I was still smiling, but a little embarrassed. By high school, I was groaning, rolling my eyes, or rushing him because I didn’t want to be late. But, the photo always happened. Year after year.Â
Back then, I didn’t understand why he cared so much. Now, sitting here in college, I finally do. Those pictures weren’t about outfits or milestones. They were his way of freezing time, of holding onto me for just one more second before I walked into a year that would change me. They were about reminding me that no matter how scary or uncertain life felt, there was always a place I belonged. That front porch wasn’t just cement and a red door, but rather love, captured in every frame.
Sometimes, I scroll through those old photos, and the lump in my throat is impossible to swallow. I see myself growing up in front of that door, year after year, until one day, the pictures stop. My first day of college didn’t come with a porch photo. There was no pause, no “smile for the camera.” And it hit me: those traditions I took for granted don’t last forever. That’s what makes them so precious.
The older I get, the more I realize it’s not the big moments that stay with us, but the little ones. The first-day outfit that made me feel brave. The good luck pen I carried into every exam. The front step photos I rolled my eyes at but now would give anything to take again. These tiny rituals stitched my childhood together, and now they live in me like a heartbeat I can still feel.
When I remember my childhood, I don’t remember what I learned in math class that year or how I did on my first English essay. I remember the front steps. I remember my dad’s voice telling me to smile. I remember the way those traditions turned fleeting mornings into lasting memories.
Sure, college has brought me new traditions—playlists for morning walks, lattes before early classes—but nothing will ever replace those porch photos. Because in the end, it’s not about the picture. It’s about the love behind the lens, the reminder that even as we grow up and move away, those small traditions are what make us who we are. So, give your loved ones grace as first semester starts, as they miss you more than you will ever know.