A few weeks ago, I agreed to go on vacation with my friends Sarah and Lyndsey and Sarah's dad. At the time, I was stoked to have adventures in Bandera, Texas with two good friends of mine for a whole week. We've been tubing (I'm warming up for that recreational activity at Texas State), swimming in a pretty clear river, taking daily visits to the resort's swimming pool, and we've done a whole lot of shameless binge eating and television watching. Just a week in paradise, right?
Plot twist: I'm so homesick, I could cry. I found myself missing home by the third day I was here in this beautiful hill country resort. I have this desire to hug my mom and breathe in that mix of body soap and cigarette smoke that reminds me so much of home. I want to hug my little brother and show him the video games I downloaded on my Android (which says a certain something, because I am in no way a "gamer") and put him in a headlock and tell him how much I missed him. I even caved a little today and called my mom sobbing about how much I missed her and how much I couldn't wait until tomorrow so I could see her and my brother. (Much to my disappointment, I was informed she doesn't get off of work until five in the evening, and Shawn is at a relative's house. That means I'll be spending a few hours of that day alone. I predict a tearful reunion.)
The whole mostly-independent-seventeen-year-old-girl-turned-homesick-toddler thing got me thinking. Is this what college is going to be like? I'm moving an hour and a half away next fall to attend Texas State, and I've been so excited about it. Am I doomed to be homesick my entire first semester? My first year? Am I going to be making distressed emotional calls to my family every night? Am I going to allow myself to be happy and enjoy campus living, or am I going to be too wrapped up in a one woman pity party chock full of missing my family and pouting silently? I guess we'll just have to see.
Home Is Where the Heart Is,
Cayla xx
