Some people love the first day of school, energized by fresh notebooks, sharp pencils, and the potential of new friends. Others spend the night nauseous and sleepless with worry. I was always the former: excited to learn, meet new teachers, and get ‘back in the swing of things.’ Starting school 2,000 miles from home was a different experience. Suddenly, school supplies meant room decor, and making friends meant learning the habits of a person sleeping three feet away from me. This transition was simultaneously rocky, brilliant, miserable, exciting, and exhausting — and I wouldn’t change a thing. 91 transformative days later, I boarded a plane to fly home to Colorado, and you’ll never believe it: I was sad to leave. I was going to miss my new bedding, new friends — my new normal. I had finally, finally found my spot on this campus, and it was time to pack my bags for eight weeks at home.
At the time, the 54 days of break seemed like forever; I anticipated being bored, missing my friends, and itching to go back. As it turns out, I’ve never felt forever go by faster. The transition back to being home was seamless and instant. I settled into a comfortable and pleasant routine, one I didn’t want to leave. Beyond just that, I was filled with the familiar apprehension about starting a new semester. First semester ended well, but would it last? All new classes and professors, new swimmers joining the club team, and readjusting to life on campus. Despite things having worked out just right, settling into the first semester was grueling and I was worried I didn’t have the energy to do it all again.
Arriving on campus for a second semester, I grappled with similar anxieties as I had in the fall. Still, among the exhaustion of change and the missing home, I felt a twinge of familiar excitement. It was the first week of classes. I needed new pens and new notebooks. I had new teachers and new classmates. As I explored classrooms and organized my Google Drive, I was ready for the academics of the upcoming semester. Eventually, I slipped naturally and gradually into my old routines. Friendships picked up as though we hadn’t spent a moment apart, and the support system I built first semester is growing and strengthening with each day I’m back on campus. I can confidently say that I am so grateful to be back, learning, meeting new teachers, and making more friends.
This emotional whiplash of change is exhausting. Repositioning myself, my habits, and my identity with each change in my meaning of home. Days at a time I am chipping away at where I best belong, asking the questions of where is home, is this home, and can one have two homes? I’m not sure if or when I’ll ever find an answer to these questions, but I do know that despite the emotional confusion, I am able to find excitement and appreciation for everything and everyone around me.
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