Commencing that long, uphill journey from campus to my student home in Lenton, I felt extremely cold, rather miserable and very much in need of some company. Basically, it was the perfect time to ring my parents. With frozen fingers, I stabbed at my keypad to find the right number, eagerly anticipating a soothing, familiar voice.
“Oh, it’s nice to finally hear from my one and only daughter!” was the distinctively snarky reply from my mother.
The response took me by surprise. What was she talking about? Was I not speaking to her just yesterday? Or maybe it was the day before? Okay, it may have been last week. Indeed, I regretfully admit I had not spoken to either one of my parents in over seven days and clearly they were not best pleased about it. Of course, they had attempted on several occasions to contact me and, in my defence, I had always intended to reply. However, in the bubble that is student life, all those texts insisting I would ‘call back later’ failed to materialise. The thing is, I simply do not suffer from homesickness and never have. Selfish as it may seem, so long as there is money in my account and friends around to keep me company, I inevitably neglect to call home. Obviously, I am overwhelmed with guilt but, as I discuss the matter with my friends, I find their thoughts echo mine.
“It’s like they don’t understand how busy I am!” cries my housemate, Zoë. It is rather difficult to take her seriously, given she has spent the day, buried under a duvet, watching episodes of Parks and Recreation. Nevertheless, the rest of us furiously nod along. We have all been thinking it since the day we arrived at university; we don’t have a desperate urge to constantly contact our parents. Only now – halfway through our second, academic year – do we have the confidence to admit it. After all, it’s become the ultimate student taboo to state you simply don’t miss home that much. While it may be true that home can provide us with a nutritious meal and freshly washed clothes, it does lack the allure of a house filled with your best friends.
“It’s great not having anybody tell me to tidy my room or ask me what time I’ll be home from a night out,” concludes an exasperated Zoë.
Evidently, not everybody is so lucky and I, by no means, wish to undermine the plight of students who really do suffer from homesickness. However, those of us who don’t shouldn’t be made to feel guilty for our independence.
“I’d much rather you were happy than constantly pining for us,” rationalises my father, “But, it would be nice if you rang home more!”
As illustrated by my housemates, it is okay to admit you’re not homesick. It is okay to lack that burning desire to ring your parents every day. It is okay to revel in your independence.
Edited by Mackenzie Orrock