Edited by: Rishika Agarwal
I found myself swaying, an unsettling dizziness clinging to me, while the very air conspired against my return. As my feet touched back on familiar ground, a realization pierced through me – nothing would ever be as it once was.
The initial transformation that struck me was the weather. My anticipation of gentle drizzles and soothing breezes had given way to an unwelcome intrusion of searing sunlight, almost taunting my return. The air, far from the pristine clarity I had imagined, now carried a dusty grit, assaulting my senses with every breath. This was far from the idyllic image of home I’d painted in front of others. Gone were the cool, comforting breezes, the soft embrace of moonlight, and the bashful sun peeking from behind the clouds. Home had changed, or perhaps it was I who no longer found a place within its altered embrace.Â
As I approached the gates of my house, there stood my mother, her face adorned with a welcoming smile, hand extended in a friendly wave. My heart initially surged with excitement at the sight of her. However, as I drew nearer and observed her engrossed in a phone conversation, that excitement gradually began to wane. My mother had never been one to wear her emotions openly, but was it unreasonable to hope for a little more? Throughout my stay at home, I couldn’t help but notice that her affection was offered sparingly. Her attention seemed consumed by the demands of others around her and the obligations of social norms. While I knew she cared deeply for these people, she expressed it freely to them, yet somehow withheld it from me. It was an initial pang of disappointment that crept over me.
The final days of my college experience this far were better than the initial ones. No longer did I confine myself to my room, disguising my absence with the pretense of room decoration or excessive workload. However, when you’ve grown accustomed to a particular way of living, it’s challenging to divert your thoughts from the familiar and accept the new normal. I did make efforts to engage with others, yet it felt somewhat forced, far from coming naturally to me. My reservations lingered, and the sensation of being an imposter haunted me, both inside and outside the classroom. I often found myself falling short in knowledge or conversation. I understood it needed to change, so I took matters into my own hands. I pushed myself to speak more, to take the initiative, and gradually, I adapted to the college environment. However,that void in my heart remained unfilled, and my yearning for home persisted.
While at home, my mind was incessantly preoccupied with thoughts of college, with familiar moments weaving through my consciousness. I found myself absorbed in these contemplations, pondering my impending return to college, the tasks awaiting me there, and the changes that lay ahead. Yet, this was only one facet of the inner turmoil.
As I sat alone in my room, staring at the ceiling, college felt as if it were not real. In those solitary moments, it seemed as though I had never truly left home, as if I had merely woken upon an October day from a dreamy August experience. These conflicting emotions left me in a state of unease,a state of uncertainty, unsure of what to believe or what to reassure myself with. I existed in the middle, straddling the realms of both home and college, questioning the authenticity of the college experience, and grappling with my perception of home. I found myself suspended in this in-between state, tugged from both sides.
In those moments, a realization gradually dawned on me – even if I didn’t entirely fit into either place, I most certainly didn’t belong in neither. There were parts of myself at home, like the smoky scent of roasted chestnuts and the woody fragrance of my room, which I had the opportunity to embrace, and they were just as I had imagined. Similarly, there were aspects of myself at college, like the initial thrill of dyeing my hair and the late-night strolls, that aligned perfectly with what I had hoped for. The change wasn’t something to be feared. I may be struggling to accept this transition, but perhaps I had indulged in excessive fantasizing. There is still so much more to explore. I’ll have to await yet another transformation, eagerly anticipating more to come. Just as after my autumn, I found myself ascending into my spring.