It had been a long two months since I’d set foot in my hometown. Two months filled with the grind of college life, early mornings, late nights, and everything in between. As much as I have been adjusting to my new home away from home, I could never quite describe the feeling of longing for the comfort and familiarity of my family and my own bed. And finally, after what felt like an eternity, the moment had arrived.
The countdown started early in the day. I had been mentally preparing myself for the moment I could finally escape the dorms, the dining hall food, and the homework assignments. The clock felt like it was moving at a snail’s pace. But when 2:20 p.m. hit, I was already grabbing my bag and hustling out of Plassmann Hall. My mind was set on one thing: hitting the road. I was ready to leave the chaos behind, even if it was just for a short while.
The drive itself was an experience I’ll never forget. The hour-and-a-half journey from campus to home felt like it could’ve been a lifetime. Each mile I drove felt like a milestone, each turn and curve a step closer to the relief I’d been yearning for. My excitement built with every passing mile, like the anticipation of opening a gift you’ve been waiting months for. I cranked up the music and let my mind think of all the things I had been missing: my mom, my dog, my grandparents, and the familiar scents of home.
As my small town, Lancaster, New York, came into view, I felt my heart race. I could see the landmarks that had once been so normal— corner stores, old restaurants, and even the street signs that had always felt like home. That’s when it hit me. The realization that I was actually home hit like a wave, and before I knew it, I was tearing up behind the wheel. It was almost surreal to see the streets again, to feel the sense of belonging that I had missed so much. It wasn’t just the physical surroundings; it was the feeling of being surrounded by what was mine, what I had grown up with.
Pulling into my driveway was a moment I had dreamed of. The familiar sight of my house and the way the sunlight hits our front porch just right was just as I had left it. But what truly made it feel like home was seeing my mom and dog waiting. I pulled into the driveway, and Maemae came sprinting towards the car. Her zoomies were the perfect welcome, and as she jumped into my arms, I couldn’t help but laugh through the tears. In that moment, all the stress and exhaustion of college life seemed to melt away.
And then, there was the food. Dining hall meals, as much as I tried to convince myself they were fine, never completely satisfied me like a home-cooked meal. My mom had made my favorite, spaghetti with meatballs. It tasted so much better than anything I’d eaten in the past two months. There was something about the love and effort she put into the meal that made every bite feel like heaven. After weeks of Hickey food, the flavors of home were a reminder of the little things I had taken for granted.
Coming home wasn’t just about being back in the same place. It was about the comfort of familiar faces, the taste of food that actually nourished me, and the feeling of belonging. It was a reminder that while college had been teaching me a lot about independence and giving me a new perspective, home would always be the place where I could truly let go, recharge, and just be myself.