At the end of every summer, thousands of college students descend into Ann Arbor, settling back in for another school year. Some move into cramped dorm rooms, some into fraternity, sorority, or co-op housing, others into highrise apartments, and still others into the old houses that line the streets surrounding campus. For the past four years, I have been one of those students. The past two years, I’ve been one of the many students moving into a house off campus. My college house is giant and tan, an upstairs and downstairs unit facing a bustling side street filled with dozens of other student houses just like it. Having lived in a small dorm room in South Quad my freshman year and a sorority house my sophomore year, I wasn’t sure what to expect when I moved into the top unit of that 14-bedroom house with my friends at the beginning of my junior year. All I knew was that I would finally have a bedroom to myself for the first time in years.
That simple fact made an amazing difference. My new room was surprisingly huge, fully furnished with large windows that let in all the natural light. I had a walk-in closet, a TV, and a very comfortable bed–basically, I was living better in this aged, poorly-lit house than I had in years. It wasn’t those perks that changed my life at school though; it was the fact that this room was all mine, a space where I could be alone and have the privacy that I’d been lacking the past two years. I got to put my pictures and decorations up on all four walls, never had to worry about being loud or messy, and could finally burn candles again. When I needed to just break down after a long hard week or month, I could crawl into my bed and do just that without having to worry about being seen or disturbing a roommate. It’s not that I didn’t love my roommates–I did–but my introverted self needs time during the day to be completely alone. I didn’t realize until I moved in how much I needed this space for myself, and I was surprised to notice that it allowed me more mental space to focus on schoolwork, my social life, and creating a healthy routine.
The year I moved into my house was also the first year I was able to cook for myself. I won’t deny that I sometimes complained about it; after all having a variety of meals prepared for you three times a day is awesome, and you get used to it after two years. I was forced to find simple but healthy meals that I liked, and began to find a sense of satisfaction in being able to confidently grocery shop for exactly what I would need for the next two weeks (and it was an excuse to go to Trader Joe’s twice a month). My roommates and I also hosted taco nights and invited all of our friends, stuffing as many people as we could into the cramped kitchen. It felt so grown up, to host a makeshift dinner party that we cooked ourselves.Â
Moving into a house (or an apartment for that matter) requires a level of responsibility that most college students aren’t fully in possession of yet. Yes, I had washed dishes, cleaned, and done my own laundry at home, but at the end of the day my parents took on the job of keeping house; I was just doing my small part. In high school my mom would often complain about my room being a mess or me leaving one behind somewhere in the house, always telling me, “Soon you’ll be living with roommates and you need to learn how to be a good one.” To her surprise, I immediately became obsessed with having a clean bedroom once I went away to college. This was mostly out of necessity; in a small room–especially one that you share with other people–you don’t have enough space for a mess to reside in. That, and I realized that my surroundings impacted my mental health, and I felt less anxious and could be more productive when my room was clean. But I didn’t really understand my mom’s obsession with keeping a nice home until I moved into my college house. Sharing a house with five other people gets messy. I got frustrated when my roommates would leave empty toilet paper rolls on the holder, and there were multiple texts from different roommates begging other roommates to wash their dishes or wipe down the counter. We were all different individuals coming from different households and backgrounds, and we had to learn how to work together to create a home that made all of us feel comfortable.
Although sharing and caring for a home with multiple people can be challenging at times, it’s also a bonding experience that is hard to come by any other way. I live with two of my best friends, and the fact that we share a house makes it so much easier to spend time together. On many evenings, the three of us sprawl out on the couch in our living room and watch Scooby-Doo or The Kardashians while we do homework or catch up. On mornings before game days we make fun breakfasts in the kitchen and bring drinks out to the back porch to survey the tailgating scene. We show each other that we care by taking turns emptying the dishwasher or taking out the trash or vacuuming the living room. The comfort and routine that comes with cohabitating a space together solidified our bond and made even the mundane times enjoyable.
There are countless other stories similar to mine of learning to live and truly make yourself at home in a college housing environment. I think that’s what makes college living such a unique yet relatable experience. Lots of people have their roommate horror stories, but many–including myself–also come away with lifelong friends. After I graduate in the spring, I have no idea what my future will hold or where I’ll be living. I’ll never come home from class to find my roommates chatting in the living room, or unwind on the back porch with them after a night out again. Instead of my hungover roommates coming into my room on Saturday mornings, it’ll be kids or a pet. Someday I’ll be coming back for a reunion trip, taking a picture in front of the house I used to live in and trying to find my sneakers on the power line. I’ll never live in my house again. So right now, I’ll just appreciate it.