Everything is packed and my room is finally clean for the first time since I hit puberty. This makes my mom happy now that company can stay in my room. To me, it is hardly recognizable, almost uncomfortable. My dorm room will be messy, just like I am used to.
I am ready for college -- I think.
My dad takes off work to help his “baby girl” prepare for the big move and my parents help put the last of my stuff in the car before we leave, a bittersweet moment that reminds me of an old Kenny Chesney song.
I have a whole new life in front of me that is about to begin, no stopping it. It is a life that will consist of staying up all night during the week, and out all night on the weekends. Sleep will become very precious. It will be very different from my home life I led before, but I am still naïve, not yet knowing the worth of a home-cooked meal or shopping with my mom.
I ignore this fact for awhile because I get homesick easily, but everything changes. You can choose your schedule, your classes, and your friends. I enjoy leading this independent life, no one to tell you what to do and when to do it by. But sometimes structure and reinforcement of family can be the only staple that will hold my stressful “adult” life together.
By the time September comes, I am aching for a break from academics and from soccer. Fall break arrives and God answers my prayers, at least for a few days.
On the highway home, the 35 mile drive feels like a cross-country trip. I disregard my impatience for anticipation and excitement of seeing my family and dog again – for everything to feel normal again.
Leaving home for the first time is an experience that brings on a current of different emotions, followed by a wave of change. Both of which you will eventually learn to ride out. But, if you never leave home, then you never get to come back.
I pull into my driveway and the garage door has already been opened for me. My mom stands in the door, while my dog barks behind her, welcoming me home.
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