This summer seemed to fly by as if it had never happened at all. Perhaps it didn’t. June had arrived in a heartbeat, considering I had my graduation to prepare for and has kept be more than occupied. July and August were Hell on Earth, and I can’t seem to change that it was all my fault. Now that September has graced us with its presence, I was finally able to move away from my home in Shenandoah, Louisiana, to move in with my aunt, Lorelei, so far away from home. Staying at home was a constant reminder of whom I am. A reminder of family and the one I once had. Such a closely knitted household and torn to shreds within seconds, it seems. I had promised, Emma, my cousin that I would keep in touch. She was like a sister to me more than she was a cousin. I believe she was the one who made me wear my birthday cake in July when I was far from eager in celebrating it to begin with, teasing me and saying that I just need a little sugar. I still laugh at the photos she posted on Facebook, tagging me in them, and one of them now being her profile. I was already homesick before I even assembled empty cardboard boxes to scatter all over the house, waiting to be filled and not caring for the clutter. The whole process of moving away was hard, but it truly didn’t strike me deep until I clamoured …show more content…
It was normal around these parts for a woman to own a truck, and know how to drive one on and off road. In New York, women generally wouldn’t drive trucks or enjoy mud as much as they enjoy getting a manicure. City girls versus country girls. You can take the girl away from the country, but you can’t take the country from the girl-she would say. The South was also far more laid back than it is in restless New York. It’s a whole new survival routine altogether. Initially, it could be traumatizing for me-she stated-and then laughed, almost daring me, and of course, I accepted the
when I was sixteen, I was very homesick, I needed to call home all the time because I missed it. Someone’s home is such an important part in life, which for my patient and I, we’ve experienced the feeling of being homesick.
Before, I could even take note, it was already October. It was time for me to pack everything in my room, and say my final goodbyes to my family members. I was going to leave everything that meant a lot to me behind. Previously, before October, we picked up my dad from the airport so that he could help us load all of our belongings to the U-Haul truck. Lily, ‘my cousin’, (we aren’t related, she is just a very close friend who I consider family) was staying with use because she want to see her father, who was also living in Denver. My mom and dad, sister, uncle, cousin, and I all stayed at the house one last night. I remember that my sister said that all her friends gathered around my mom’s car to wave goodbye to her. Her closest friends got very emotional and they started to cry. Not only did the move affect me, it also affected my sister greatly. It was like someone had given her a punch in the stomach. By the next day, we had everything in the U-Haul truck, and it was time for me to leave my precious Vegas behind. We had now started the drive to
Throughout my life I have been traveling to and from New York and it has pretty much became a regular part of my life. I have left and came back multiple times over the years, from going on vacations to moving for good, but the most significant time was when I was moving out of New York when I was a kid. My parents had a reason to move down to Philadelphia so they decided that’s what we were going to do. Since I was born here and spent most of my early childhood here, the thought of living somewhere else was strange to me, as it would for almost any kid at that age, and I didn’t really know how life would be like outside of the neighborhood where I’m from. The part of New York where I grew up at was very neighborhoody in the Bronx, everyone
When we arrived, it was a beautiful and sunny day. We checked into our hotel, waiting to move into the house we had rented sight unseen. The first couple of days were spent driving around town getting used to our surroundings. Our first summer here was beautiful, I surprised myself when I actually started enjoying my time in this unfamiliar place. The fall and winter seemed to go on forever, and with that so did the rain. It was challenging, moving from a place where our winters consisted of warm weather and clear skies to a place where the rain seemed to never stop. I was still unemployed, I hadn’t made close friends. I felt lost, I just wanted to make this place feel like home. In the later months I received an offer to work for an apartment complex as a leasing consultant, it seemed everything was falling into
It’s September of 2009, the semi-truck is sitting outside with all of our belongings in it, like an airplane waiting to take us away. Today is gloomy and raining as usual, but I know I’m going to miss it. The sun has started going down; we all get into the vehicles we’re designated. Me, my Dad, and Jade our Boxer into the truck, Mom Jaycee and the other animals into the car, and my Aunt Tina and Grandma into their suburban. It’s bitter sweet, I am so excited to go to a new city, new state, new everything, but I’m leaving behind everyone I grew up with. My closest friends who thought I was funny, not weird. Who I consider my brother, Daniel, and my mom’s side of the family all left behind. We begin driving, the truck brakes releasing
It was finally fall break. I was visiting my grandma for a few days. Well past dinnertime, I pulled up to the white stately home in northern rural Iowa. I parked my car, unloaded my bag and pillow, and crunched through the leaves to the front porch. The porch was just how I had seen it last; to the right, a small iron table and chairs, along with an old antique brass pole lamp, and on the left, a flowered glider that I have spent many a summer afternoon on, swaying back and forth, just thinking.
new friendships, my summer was full of new and old experiences. Though over too soon, I
When I was only a year old, I moved to the United States as a refugee from Bosnia and Herzegovina. Although, I don’t remember the journey leaving the troubled country, I do remember having to learn to adapt to life here in the US. Being that my main source of knowledge came from my parents, it made it really difficult to adapt, seeing that they also didn’t speak the language and weren’t familiar with how things worked in the new country we were in. In my pre-school years, I was mostly surrounded by other Bosnians that had also fled the country, so I was unaware about what “normal” American life was. When I finally went to school, I realized how different my life had been compared to that of my peers. Not only was the language barrier hard to
Every new graduated high school student wants to get out of their parents’ house. They want independence, and to feel like they are going somewhere in life. Well, that’s what I thought. Moving out was the hardest thing I had done so far. I had just graduated and was barely making any money but I thought oh well so many people move out this young I’m just going to have to work harder, maybe skip school this semester until I can get on my feet to take classes. I knew all too well that I wouldn’t be able to afford it on my own, so I asked my best friend if she wanted to live with me. Little did we both know that living with another person would be a very different experience then living with our parents. We had plenty of fights over messy rooms, the empty fridge, empty bank accounts, and annoying neighbors.
For many years I would pass by the house and long to stop and look at it. One day I realized that the house was just that, a house. While it served as a physical reminder of my childhood, the actual memories and experiences I had growing up there were what mattered, and they would stay with me forever.
Moving weekend. These two words have defined my life several times since my pilgrimage to Colorado. My first few years here were chaotic, unknown, and completely spontaneous. For someone who likes control, a concrete plan at least two weeks in advance, and a generous helping of consistent routine, my first days, weeks, years, where I was but a nomadic, semi-"homeless" wanderer were met with the most challenging and illuminating moments I have yet encountered.
The fleeting changes that often accompany seasonal transition are especially exasperated in a child’s mind, most notably when the cool crisp winds of fall signal the summer’s end approaching. The lazy routine I had adopted over several months spent frolicking in the cool blue chlorine soaked waters of my family’s bungalow colony pool gave way to changes far beyond the weather and textbooks. As the surrounding foliage changed in anticipation of colder months, so did my family. My mother’s stomach grew larger as she approached the final days of her pregnancy and in the closing hours of my eight’ summer my mother gently awoke me from the uncomfortable sleep of a long car ride to inform of a wonderful surprise. No longer would we be returning to the four-story walk up I inhabited for the majority of my young life. Instead of the pavement surrounding my former building, the final turn of our seemingly endless journey revealed the sprawling grass expanse of a baseball field directly across from an unfamiliar driveway sloping in front of the red brick walls that eventually came to be know as home.
Everything seems like it’s falling out of place, it’s going too fast, and my mind is out of control. I think these thoughts as I lay on my new bed, in my new room, in this new house, in this new city, wondering how I got to this place. “My life was fine,” I say to myself, “I didn’t want to go.” Thinking back I wonder how my father felt as he came home to the house in Stockton, knowing his wife and kids left to San Diego to live a new life. Every time that thought comes to my mind, it feels as if I’m carrying a ten ton boulder around my heart; weighing me down with guilt. The thought is blocked out as I close my eyes, picturing my old room; I see the light brown walls again and the vacation pictures of the Florida and camping trip stapled to them. I can see the photo of me on the ice rink with my friends and the desk that I built with my own hands. I see my bed; it still has my checkered blue and green blanket on it! Across from the room stands my bulky gray television with its back facing the black curtain covered closet. My emotions run deep, sadness rages through my body with a wave of regret. As I open my eyes I see this new place in San Diego, one large black covered bed and a small wooden nightstand that sits next to a similar closet like in my old room. When I was told we would be moving to San Diego, I was silenced from the decision.
If you ask anyone what home means to them more than likely you’ll get several different opinions. In my case home has never been a specific place it’s always been wherever my mom was! My Mother and I have been moving from place to place ever since I could remember.
When faced with new environmental changes and a lifestyle to adapt to, many college students feel overwhelmed by homesickness. Homesickness is most commonly due to anxiety, depression, and loneliness. A research studied concluded that homesick college students are three times more likely to drop out than non-homesick students. For many first-year college students, being away from home can be like an adventure. It’s exhilarating to be off on your own and completely in charge of your life and social well-being. I know that during my first week in college, I didn’t feel homesick at all because I was so anxious to meet new people, explore campus, and check out my classes. However, as I got more used to