“Summer has come and passed; the innocent can never last...”
Tonight is my last night at home before I go off to college. And, to be quite honest, it kind of feels like my last night as a kid. It’s strange, because all this past summer there’s been the part of me that knows I’m going to college; and then there’s the part of me that’s still thinking I’m going to be home forever, that come September I’ll be going back to my old school with my old friends, that I’ll have all the time I want to chill in my room, sleep in my bed with my dog, and (as dorky as it sounds) hang out with my mom.
And then tonight, when I realized it’s my last night home, it suddenly all hit me that that’s not true. No, instead I’m going to a school where I know virtually no one, living there, sleeping in a bed that isn’t mine; and neither my mom nor my dog are going to be there.
And that’s when I realized that we’re all growing up.
Hannah graduated from college this past May, and she just joined the Peace Corps, and she’s leaving next month for training, and then she’ll be in the Ukraine for two years. And suddenly it just occurred to me that if she’s leaving home to go live in Ukraine for the next two years, then that means she’s on her own now. And if she’s on her own, that means she’s grown up.
I don’t think I’m ready to have a sister who’s grown up. If she’s grown up, it means that at some point she got older. And if she got older, then at some point I did too.
And tonight’s my last night at home. And when I come back all the glasses will be on the wrong shelves, and my mom will probably have rearranged my room, and my fan will have moved, and I won’t be able to find anything in the house ... and it won’t really be home anymore.
And my mom’s getting married in January, and she’ll be moving to Texas in June; and Camryn’s graduating next year, and then she’ll go to grad school in some other state, and then I’ll be all alone.
And tonight’s my last night as a kid.
I don’t mean that tomorrow I’ll be an adult. I just mean I won’t be a kid anymore. Something will have changed. Something will be lost. Dynamics will shift. Everything will be different.
And home somehow won’t be home anymore.
And then tonight, when I realized it’s my last night home, it suddenly all hit me that that’s not true. No, instead I’m going to a school where I know virtually no one, living there, sleeping in a bed that isn’t mine; and neither my mom nor my dog are going to be there.
And that’s when I realized that we’re all growing up.
Hannah graduated from college this past May, and she just joined the Peace Corps, and she’s leaving next month for training, and then she’ll be in the Ukraine for two years. And suddenly it just occurred to me that if she’s leaving home to go live in Ukraine for the next two years, then that means she’s on her own now. And if she’s on her own, that means she’s grown up.
I don’t think I’m ready to have a sister who’s grown up. If she’s grown up, it means that at some point she got older. And if she got older, then at some point I did too.
And tonight’s my last night at home. And when I come back all the glasses will be on the wrong shelves, and my mom will probably have rearranged my room, and my fan will have moved, and I won’t be able to find anything in the house ... and it won’t really be home anymore.
And my mom’s getting married in January, and she’ll be moving to Texas in June; and Camryn’s graduating next year, and then she’ll go to grad school in some other state, and then I’ll be all alone.
And tonight’s my last night as a kid.
I don’t mean that tomorrow I’ll be an adult. I just mean I won’t be a kid anymore. Something will have changed. Something will be lost. Dynamics will shift. Everything will be different.
And home somehow won’t be home anymore.