Home for the holidays

Just like the past seasons, I’m home for the holidays. After travelling during the summer and a busy semester it’s a strange feeling being back. Despite this, no matter how long I’ve been away, the excitement of being back never fades. 

Walking into my childhood bedroom feels like a museum of past lives. Photos from my high school days are enclosed in a glass box on my wall. My closet is filled with clothes I haven’t touched in years but don’t have the heart to donate. Road race shirts from 2019 and oversized concert tees I once promised myself I’d wear, now hang neatly on soft velvet hangers.

I haven’t been back home since July, yet it feels like I never left. Returning to the place I once knew so well feels both grounding and a little foreign. It’s as though I’m trying to piece together the version of myself that exists here with the person I’ve become elsewhere.

I always forget the little hidden gems and trinkets that fill my shelves and drawers. Lego sets collect dust and expired bronzers that should have been thrown out ages ago sits amongst the rest of my old makeup. I found a pair of earrings I thought I had lost and $20 tucked into a hoodie pocket. I guess it’s my lucky day. 

The black dress shirt from my seasonal summer job is tossed on my chair as if the space hasn’t been vacant for months. 

My mother still waters my plants. Once a week, every Sunday, she tells me. My Pothos has never looked better, its leaves climbing down the side of my desk, overflowing in the pot. Why could I never get it that big, I always ask?

I didn’t pack my pyjamas. I assumed I would have an old pair in a drawer somewhere. Instead, I’m rocking my dad’s old shirt to bed.

Everyone tells me it must feel so nice to sleep in your own bed, but the pillow feels too hard, and I don’t remember the mattress being this soft. 

When I turn off the lights, my ceiling glows with the night sky. I always forget about the stars my best friend stuck to my ceiling for my 16th birthday. I try to count them, but as the glow begins to fade, I lose track. 

Sleeping under the stars, I slip back into the rhythm of old routines, savouring all the small moments like the morning coffees with my parent’s espresso machine and walks with my childhood dog. 

This place I call home may not feel the same as it once did, but it has a way of wrapping me in its embrace and reminding me of the person I’ve become.

• #reflection
• college
• holidays
• personal essay