I wake up to the feeling of crisp, freshly washed sheets enveloping me and the sound of my family talking downstairs, their voices reverberating softly throughout the house. The cherry wood kitchen cabinets are closed gently and ceramic mugs and plates are stacked onto the granite countertops. The sputtering sounds of coffee being brewed from the “old-fashioned” — though it may be too soon to coin it as such — coffee pot are just barely discernible through the sound of frying bacon and bread popping up from the toaster. The smells of espresso and grease waft into my room through my closed door and seep under my blankets. I’m filled with ease as I open my eyes, for these are the sentiments of repose only your real home can offer.
Mornings for me are the first notable difference of being at home versus being at school — the general cleanliness and laundry that hasn’t been neglected following behind as a very close second. Granted, this appreciation for the early hours of the day has not always been an attribute of mine. Previously, being awoken before the sun rose by the violent ringing of an alarm clock signaled only the drudgery of preparing for a seven-hour school day. While this view has somewhat carried over into my mornings at the University, waking up at home is no longer encumbered by daunting thoughts of all that’s to be done or all of the assignments due.
The making of a morning into something more than just a segway into school or work, as something in its own right worth enjoying, is only part of what truly being at home feels like. When we’re not hurriedly jumping out of bed into the clothes we wore yesterday and scraping together a breakfast when we haven’t been to the grocery store in a week, we’re afforded the time to acknowledge the sense of refuge granted by mornings at home. This relaxation is something that can be searched for — and sometimes found but only to a certain extent — on Grounds when we sleep in one Saturday or retreat to the McGregor Room in between classes to watch Netflix.
But no number of study breaks can amount to the comfort of a real home. Returning home for Thanksgiving, I’m sure many of us were reminded of the ease that overcomes us simply by seeing familiar faces or visiting old places. There’s a tenderness with which I regard the elements of my childhood and young adult life, and a feeling of security amidst the chaos of school to know I can delve into parts of my former sense of familiarity at home.
Preparing for finals, I remind myself and encourage others to think of the month’s worth of mornings where we’ll wake up to a breakfast that isn’t the same scrambled eggs we’ve been force-feeding ourselves for the past semester. Instead we’ll be granted a reprieve from our academic responsibilities and afforded the time to re-acclimate ourselves to what was once habitual. In a few weeks we can revisit the people who knew us when we had braces or bangs — or for myself the people who knew me when I had the tragic and untimely combination of both — and ease into an old normal. As much as U.Va. is a home for me, it will always be a second home compared to where I grew up.
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