Home Life (7/90)

I've been home for a few hours now, and it's a nice feeling. Alone in my room, with shorts on, not caring how I look or if I need to change my music.

I saw my family today, saw my dog, and now I'm sitting on my bed. Somewhat unpacked, but most of my stuff is still in the living room. I got a load of laundry done today. No home cooked meal was waiting for me, but I wasn't expecting one. It's strange to think that my homecoming is the same that it's always been, and this time it's been about four months since I was last home and saw my family.

I left one home today. I was reflecting on that in the McDonald's bathroom today. I was leaving home. Ball State has become my home. I've even got a family there. I'm comfortable at school. It's where I stay for about 8 months out of my year for four years. Ball State University has become my home for the next two years. And then I'll be leaving it behind, and moving...where? Back to Illinois? Back to where I've been for half my life? And then what was the point of going back to Indiana?

I'll be leaving my friends behind. I'm not silly enough to convince myself that they'll follow me back to Chicago. I hope they'll survive the distance, because I'm not planning on staying in Indiana for grad school. Unless I have a good reason to stay, that involves a possible marriage in the future. But for now, it's looking like I'll only be in Indiana for a few years, and then move on.

It's funny how a seemingly small amount of time can have such a big impact on your life. I mean, this past semester made me think about what I had gone through, and how much deeper my friendships have become. I've got people I met this year and hardly talked to telling me they'll miss me, and they truly mean it. I've got friends for two years now who are just now showing me exactly how much I mean to them. I worked hard for my grades. I spent a lot of money on clothes. I bought a skirt. I went to a dance clinic. I took a chance. I rearranged my room.

The rearranged room held so many memories, but making the room look the way it had when we first arrived had some I had forgotten about. When I rolled onto my left side for the last time in that bed last night, it hit me how much I had forgotten. Instead of falling asleep as planned, I had a flashback of the last time I was in that bed with you at that height. I remembered you hitting your head on the ceiling and both of us laughing after. I remember the quiet nights filled with concern. And that was the end of the memories for quite some time, I believed.

I thought when I got back to Illinois the memories wouldn't creep up on me as easily. If my parents had moved the bed you stayed in back to my room, then I'd be fine. And they did. It is now safely below me. But when I walked into the family room, they came back. I remember me opening my Christmas present. I remember watching the clock wind down, and the new year come in. I remember watching you play MGS. And when I went to do my laundry, I remembered watching some of The Little Mermaid. Of waking you up.

It's funny. You were only here for a few days, and I can't go into some of my most visited rooms in my house without remembering you. But here's the thing: I don't want to forget. As silly as that sounds, I want to remember you here. Maybe because I don't want to let go of the memories. Maybe I'm just a masochist. Maybe I'm hoping you'll change your mind.

Or maybe I just really liked the flowers. And the muffins your mom made.