I grew up in a fairly small suburb on the east side of Cleveland. I’ve never moved, switched schools or made any huge changes or adjustments. My family has lived in the same house for more than 25 years. My older siblings and I all went to the same school from kindergarten to eighth grade, then the same high school, though none of us were there at the same time. I knew my way around that high school before I even got there. I probably could’ve given tours as a sixth grader.
For most of my life, “home” was a place — a very specific one, though it was more than just my house. It was the 7 minute drive (exactly) to school every day, through back roads I could navigate in my sleep. It was the Chipotle that my friends and I would meet up in that resulted in my very first fender bender. It was rarely being more than a short drive from a warm shower and cozy bed and waking up to a fresh pot of coffee. It was comfort, familiarity, permanence.
Moving to Chicago for college was the biggest, most sudden and intimidating transition I’ve ever had to make. I knew I would eventually be fine, but the initial shock was a lot to take in. Suddenly everything I had grown accustomed to — everything I considered “home” — was over 350 miles away. I had never spent more than a few weeks away from home, and I had never been one for doing things on my own. I was absolutely terrified.
But I was also absolutely sure that it was the right decision. I needed to expand my horizons, to go beyond my “home” of comfort and familiarity and find a new one. Looking back, it’s pretty amazing how I could be so sure that something was right for me without ever having experienced it before. But I was right. It was.
After just three semesters of college, at the ripe old age of 19, my mindset has changed and grown more than I thought possible. “Home” is no longer comfort, familiarity, permanence — in fact, it’s almost the opposite. It’s expanding my horizons, encountering new things, having new experiences and, most importantly, doing it with people who share the same thoughts and values that I do.
Just because what I consider “home” has changed significantly, that doesn’t mean I love my old version any less. In fact, I think the greatest part of being in college (four great years of pure transition and liminality) is that you don’t have to choose between homes. I still look forward to time away from Chicago, whereI can bask in the comfort and familiarity of my house, constantly surrounded by people I love.
My favorite time to spend at home is around Christmas. I always liked Christmas growing up. I loved (and most definitely still do) making hot chocolate, decorating the house and eating cookies all while Christmas music flowed through our speakers. But I don’t think I truly appreciated the time spent with my family until I moved away. Now, I’ve realized that what I loved most about those things was who I was doing them with — making hot chocolate with my siblings, decorating the house with my parents and eating cookies with my grandparents.
For Christmas dinner, we have a lot of my mom’s relatives over for a big turkey dinner, which is usually followed by a family Christmas concert of sorts. Growing up, this gathering always felt a bit chaotic — and it is. But I view it now as a kind of organized chaos that perfectly encapsulates our family. It’s like our very own version of the Fezziwig house in Charles Dickens’ A Christmas Carol.
During these last few weeks in Chicago I’ve been trying my hardest to get into the Christmas spirit. To lighten up the intensity of study sessions, I’ve been listening to Christmas music, and I’ve been rewarding myself by watching Christmas movies. I went to the tree lighting in Millennial Park and the Zoo Lights at the Lincoln Park Zoo. I’ve had so much fun, and I’ve certainly been very happy and thankful to have such wonderful experiences (and friends to share them with). But it still doesn’t quite feel like Christmas. I think it’s because I so closely associate Christmas with my old view of “home,” that nothing else can quite compare.
Chicago, you are a magical adventure and a large part of my new conception of “home” and I love you dearly. But it’s just not Christmas if I’m not cozied up in my house, spending days on end in my pajamas, drinking hot cocoa and making cookies surrounded by the people I love.