I started a semester away program this week hundreds of miles away from my family, my friends, my house, my dogs, my bed, and anything at all familiar. While the experience I'm having here is so exciting and eye-opening, while all the people here are kind and funny and unbelievably smart, there's something in me that overwhelmingly aches for home.
Shouldn't I be feeling liberated, free, finally grown? No parents in sight, no squabbling with sisters, no getting scolded for not emptying the dishwasher or taking out the trash. No little passive aggressive comments over the dinner table, no fights about aforementioned little comments. When I'm at home, my family drives me insane. Like, off the walls insane. But tonight I realized I would probably give everything up to be with them right now.
Family is a funny thing. You have to learn to accept that you don't get along and still love each other. If you had friends like that, they wouldn't last very long. But blood is blood, and as long as the bad doesn't become the extremely bad, you put up with it.
I realized the other day that the day of summer that I remember the most fondly is my last day of summer. I spent the entire waking day, or 10 hours of it, in a small car with my family on the way to my new school. It started out pretty alright-- my sister and I watched Pride and Prejudice, as she had just finished the book for the first time. Eventually tensions rose as we stopped at a rest stop for a fast food lunch and my mom and sister began critiquing and discussing the unpleasantries of pre-prepared fast food as I tried to eat my lunch.
Of course, once back in the car, my sister spilled her orange soda all over my already hot and sticky body and my seat. I screamed at her as I looked for wet wipes to mop up the sickly sweet mess. "You're the WORST" I declared. I don't remember her response. It was definitely equally as unkind.
The car went silent for a few hours as we drove through suburban Pennsylvania. I watched the final episodes of Stranger Things on my iPhone and listened to my favorite 80s synth playlist while gazing out at the passing parking lots and fields, trying to ignore my family's chatter that my earbuds couldn't block out.
As we got closer to my destination, my mom asked me for about the fourth time that car ride how to search her email inbox. Frustrated after telling her over and over, I snatched the phone and aggressively showed her how. "You don't have to be so rude!" she snapped. 10 hours in a confined space had done its work.
But that's the day I remember most, and feel most nostalgic for. I guess that sums up family-- you fight, you hate them, you're annoyed by them, and you love them and miss them like crazy when they're not there to bother you.
I've called or FaceTimed my family every day I've been here, and there have been no unkind words. I'm sure that will change when I go home in 3 months, but I'd rather be near them while they scold me than listen to their niceties with my phone pressed against my ear, miles away from them. But whenever I get a little too homesick, I just remember my sister spilling her Fanta on me and refusing to apologize. And that helps just the littlest bit.
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