There comes a point where we must leave home. I left home four years ago, to attend college. After my parent’s helped me move my stuff into my dorm room, I hugged them goodbye and watched them drive away. When I got back to my room I closed the door and the tears started to fall because I wasn’t a little girl anymore. Here I was in a new city with no friends, no family, stranded. When I visited home on the weekends I felt right at home until it was time to leave. I’d cry as I left because I didn’t want to leave. Summer vacation rolled around and I was able to spend the summer days with my niece until I went back to school which broke my heart because seeing her cry and yell my name knowing I couldn’t go back and hug her was difficult.
Leaving home taught me how to appreciate the time I have with the people in my life. Over the course of four years I was able to grow much more. I gained great friendships, a job I love, memories that I cherish, my passion, and being independent. Now when I visit home, it doesn’t feel like home. Yes my parents still live there and my brother with a new addition of my step brother to. Maybe it’s because my parent’s finally moved all my things out of my old room. They converted it to the grandchildren room with a bed for when I visit. I’ve realized I have outgrown being home. My life isn’t there any longer it is two hours west with my cats. My parents have watched me complete a 5k in my new city. I took them to see a ballet then out to eat. They see my new home. They are happy for me. Although I can hear it in their voice when I call that they miss me.
No one warned me how easy it was to walk away from home.
We leave something of ourselves behind when we leave a place, we stay there, even though we go away. And there are things in us that we can find again only by going back there.
— Pascal Mercier