The Call of the Void
A House Is Not a Home
Going home this year for fall break was bittersweet.
Bitter because I still had homework to do over break, and it’s not a break if you have homework.
Bitter because a week before break, I found out my ex-boyfriend and his new girlfriend were in my hometown for their Thanksgiving break, and he was introducing her to his parents.
Bitter because I lost a friend over something I thought was incredibly stupid, but I guess she didn’t see it that way from her end.
Bitter because I have a small circle of friends in Colorado Springs, and one of them is in New York, and the other one it’s hard to work around her busy schedule—I felt alone.
But like I said, it was also sweet. Sweet because I finally got to see my family after four grueling months. Even though they are only an hour away, I only see them during the breaks, so sometimes it feels like I’m in another state. Things are relatively the same at home, but it felt nice to catch up and see how everyone was, what I missed, and to just be home.
Sweet because Thanksgiving food obviously. Nothing like eating and sleeping, followed by more eating and sleeping, oh and did I mention eating and sleeping?
Sweet because I not only caught up on the endless hours of sleep I so desperately needed, but I also ate real food that wasn’t pizza.
I wrote this column at the start of Thanksgiving because I was so overwhelmed with emotions (I also decided this was an appropriate column to dedicate to home because of Thanksgiving and what not).
For me, home is sitting in the tennis parking lot across the street from my high school with my best friend eating carne asada fries and drinking Dutch Bros. Home is bothering my mom in her room and catching each other up on all the drama in our lives. And finally, home is visiting my other best friend at her store and bringing her lunch.
Despite how hard it was to come back to the Springs, these are the people who made it worthwhile, and for that, I am not only thankful, but I can’t wait until next Thanksgiving.