Before coming to university, I had a lot of concerns and apprehensions about what my life would be like and all the changes I would have to go through. Obviously, there was the fear of adjusting to university-level work after what had already been a unique experience doing my A-Levels in the midst of a pandemic but, in all honesty, I think the fear of life away from home was what dominated a majority of my thoughts in the run-up to my move. For the first time in my life, as it is for most people, I would be entirely on my own, expected to run my whole life by myself instead of just parts of it being my responsibility. I was excited, donāt get me wrong, because university was what I had been working towards for all those years in school but despite all the excitement, it is dread that I remember feeling the most in those last few days before that flight. How would I leave home to go somewhere new and have to start all over again from scratch?
I faced an interesting conundrum when introducing myself to people at university because I had one foot in each world when the topic of where we had come from inevitably arose – no matter what you say, you tell everyone you meet in the first few weeks of term one of first year where youāre from because itās an inevitable question for Fresherās Week. I wasnāt quite a home student because I didnāt live in the UK before coming to university but then I wasnāt an international student because I was born and grew up in the UK. So, when people asked me where I was from, I had more than a single-word answer, but it meant I always had an interesting conversation to have with people. From the offset then, being away from home was something I needed to understand for myself before I could ever try and explain to someone what exactly I was homesick for.
Like some of my friends at university, my term-time address and home address are separated by quite a few things, mainly distance. My two homes sit on two different continents with very different weather patterns (which I am very grateful for when I get to fly home in December) and it takes a flight to be able to go back for the holidays. My family exist in a different time zone from me and collectively, we have had to adapt to lives where we arenāt always available to each other; my phone calls with them have to be planned for certain hours of the day when we are all free and going home isnāt as easy for me as it is for some of my other friends. Going home for some of my friends is a drive away, it is the promise of being able to see university friends over the long breaks but me returning to my home, coming back to my Point A, means being completely cut off from my life at university for weeks at a time. Itās an interesting push and pull because sometimes, I want nothing more than to be involved with my university friends who seem to be so much closer to each other geographically, but then the pull of home kicks in and Iām thrilled to be at the airport again and everything else seems to fall away.
While I am certainly luckier than most other international students with the family that I can go and see during reading week who fill the gap that is left behind when Iām away from home and my Point A, my definition of home has still certainly changed over the last year and a half. When I speak to my international friends at university, they understand where Iām coming from and when I speak to my friends from home, they get it too ā it makes feeling like this much easier because I know that itās not just me trying to understand what āhomeā has become. I suppose, without trying to sound too philosophical, my definition of home has changed in the same way that I have changed over the last year and a half.
While I might miss how easy it was to call one place home, I wouldnāt trade the home Iāve found here at university; while I might miss the life I had before I came to university, Iām proud of the life Iāve managed to make for myself here. Itās a complicated thing, being a home/international student, because this home almost feels temporary and youāre biding time instead of settling down. Ten weeks seems like an eternity when Iām far away and getting ready to come back to university, but it goes by so quickly because Iām packing and thinking about leaving for the airport again before I even know it. On hard days, itās one home I reach for but on the good days, of which there are many, this is one of the only places I would want to be.
Although I wonāt have that simple definition of home again as I did at eighteen when I first left to come to university, Iāve realised that university so far has taught me that home doesnāt need to be as straightforward as you might think it does. If I could talk to the version of me who was filled with dread before flying to university for the time, I would tell her that things work out and often, in the most unlikely of ways. University has taught me, among a multitude of other things, that you find home wherever you are and, if youāre incredibly sentimental like I am, that youāll cherish every part of every home that you either stumble upon or build yourself. Home is now one of those concepts that Iām not afraid to redefine and I certainly count myself one of the luckier ones to have found home so many times over.