By Thalia Lauzon
By the end of last semester, I was ready to go back home for a bit. I felt like a month off from school was in order — especially after not taking a single test or notes since mid-March, which took a lot of adjustments.
I survived a semester of college.
Heading back to Illinois would be nice. It would be great to see my home and family, both of which I’d never been away from for that long. Also, I’d be able to speak more comfortably at home. I don’t really do that at Boston University, because I haven’t made friends besides my roommate — and the times I speak during class don’t count. I would also be able to use a kitchen and to do laundry without going down eight floors.
The trip back to Illinois wasn’t that bad, but it was weird. I got to the airport around 3 a.m. for my 5 a.m. flight, which I realized is before the Transportation Security Administration lines even open. That was a very enlightening experience. Call me dumb, but I didn’t really think that TSA ever closed. But they do.
Also, my flight was entirely full, which was really awkward given the majority of time I’ve spent sitting alone in my dorm the past four months. The plane was crowded and I was very uncomfortable.
But I digress.
Getting back home and walking through O’Hare International Airport was oddly comforting. It was bustling with people, but the holiday decorations, globe, restaurants and even the pick-up areas were familiar. I felt like I knew where I was going and what to do instinctually.
I spent the next week cooking food, sleeping, talking with my parents and enjoying our new subscription to Netflix. Great times.
But I got my fill of it too soon.
Don’t get me wrong — nothing bad happened and I still liked being home, but the novelty of it wore off.
I was used to having all my things in one room –– just a few feet away –– but now I had things in my room, on the dining room table, in a random drawer in my kitchen, etc. It was strange to get settled back into my house when things had moved and my other family members claimed their territories to work from during the day: my mom had the dining table and TV room, my sibling claimed one half of the breakfast table and my dad claimed the downstairs. When I was in high school, I set up my own table in the other sitting room, but that was taken down.
Not to mention, I had gotten used to the silence at BU. The steady stream of cars and wind were background noise for four months, and that didn’t bother me. When I got home, the television’s volume was set at a blaring 75 for my practically deaf parents. My ears hurt. That doesn’t include the barking from my dog and the new puppy.
And I’m moderately allergic to them too, so that was fun.
Honestly, I’m just glad to be back in Boston. I like doing my own thing and having less chaos in my life. Though by the end of the semester, I’ll probably feel like going home again, but at least I know what to expect and what I need to do to survive the summer.