By the end of April, all the time I should have been using to study was spent daydreaming about going home. I decided that I was ready to give up all the privileges that come from living on your own. I thought I knew what I would be giving up. I wouldn't be able to eat at dining halls anymore, and of course I would miss the watered down ice cream (sorry, "ice milk") that everyone seems to love so much. I would be giving up the rainy Charlottesville weather, and I also wouldn't be spending late nights with my good friends Clemons or Clarke.
I was fed up with living on Grounds, two-and-a-half hours away from my very own shower (minus the shower shoes), home-cooked food and, of course, my family. I even found myself missing my little brother like crazy. I hadn't felt so homesick since the week after I moved into my dorm room.
Looking back, the homesickness began the moment my family left me in my dorm. I've always been really close to my family, so it took a while to wear down. In fact, it took me the majority of first semester to get over my homesickness, and someone who hates me must have requested an encore because it hit me hard again just in time for finals.
It wasn't until I finally walked up the steps to my front door that I realized I had been away for so long. The first week of summer break went by perfectly. My days were spent lounging around different rooms of my house, and when I wasn't lazing about, I was eating my mother's cooking. I think it's quite possible that a good portion of the famous freshman 15 is gained during that first week home in May.
After a couple of weeks at home things weren't so perfect anymore. I entered a stage of confusion. I missed being a first year. In fact, I was getting thoroughly annoyed with all the people congratulating me for becoming a sophomore. Did they all think that I would flunk out of school my first year? And what irritated me most was that the fact that they would make me feel as if I were in high school all over again by calling me a sophomore. At the University I am a second year -- so there.
This period of confusion was followed by nostalgia. Just a few weeks earlier I had been dreading another day in my dusty dorm room. Now I was thinking about my lovely Lile suities and how we would never again be able to dance on our suite table or help one another get ready for a date. I was even starting to miss climbing up three flights of stairs four times a day in Tuttle for "club meetings" with my new best friends. The usual meeting agenda: eating Ben & Jerry's and venting about classes, boys and such.
As I sat in Charlottesville only weeks ago and thought about how I had taken my house in NOVA for granted, I had no idea that I would soon realize I was taking my first-year memories for granted as well. Talk about irony.
There's something about Charlottesville that is unlike any other city I've ever lived in or visited. There is always a sight to see, a concert to attend or an event to check out. It's not a big city, but it's always bustling with energy, and even though I live 15 minutes away from the capitol, small-scale C'ville is starting to feel more like somewhere that I would like to live.
Although I missed home many-a-time while I was in Charlottesville, I'm beginning to miss the University as I pass the summer months in Northern Virginia. I'm glad that I'm realizing this sooner rather than later because now I can make the most of my college experience in a place that I feel so comfortable.
I was talking to my neighbor a few days ago and told her that I was having the time of my life at the University and was heading back for Summer Session the coming weekend. Oddly enough, by the end of our conversation, I found myself saying, "I can't wait to go back home." After all, there's no written rule about having more than one place that feels like home.
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