Winter break went fast, but vacations always do. After a week back at Fairfield, my body is torn between sleep and class. An 8 a.m. doesn’t have the same significance as it did last semester, especially when I conveniently forget to set my alarm.
My increased need for sleep isn’t even a question of going out, since my fake ID is in my room back on Long Island. Instead, I was spoiled with the luxury of a full-sized refrigerator and undisturbed sleep.
Eventually though, I still longed to return to Fairfield.
The refrigerator is just downstairs, and my mother is still asking the same questions about last night as I pour a hearty glass of Gatorade. Two Advil rest next to my unkempt bed that is dressed with favorite sheets; quite the contrast to the egg crate pad that conceals my blue, Army Reserve bed at Fairfield.
I had just arrived home, and yet I wanted to return to the Ramen noodles and blaring “Cosby” reruns of my neighbor’s television.
Home is a refreshing breath of familiarity with a kiss from Grandma, a night on the town with the girlfriend, and maybe even a movie with your kid sister. However, after every relevant smile, affectionate look and 30-pack has been exhausted though, what is left?
Days lose distinction and dates become irrelevant in the convoluted, alcohol-induced haze you have been living in, also known as college. Students need a reprieve from the chore of assignments, an opportunity to leave school behind for a couple weeks and return home, and this is what winter break provides.
But is home still the same place we left four months ago?
After living at Fairfield, it seems this once-unfamiliar place has become a surrogate home.
The not-so-common slip made when referring to your dorm as “home” goes to show that a familiarity with Fairfield has developed. Although the thought of making a permanent residence in the Jogues projects leaves me queasy, I can handle wiping the seat and wearing jeans that only appear clean in the interim.
We’ve all heard the stories from home over and over again, especially the ones about last summer when Billy threw up on the old guy’s lawn or even your eighth grade gym teacher who liked to watch the boys get changed.
These stories, illicit or not, make up a person’s character and offer insight into the guy who lives down the hall-information you would not otherwise find out in your casual urinal conversation.
I couldn’t even tell you the last names of some of the people that I know from Fairfield. Not that our college friends are bad, but we all have a certain level of comfort with our friends from home. They’re the ones who call you to play snow football and visit you at the hospital after you break your leg and then never forget about it, even years later.
So often it seems as if kids are trying to remake themselves in a certain image, where relationships become insignificant and life lacks any meaningful substance. You can change your physical appearance, but you’re still the same person, even with blue hair, a scruffy beard, or the imitation Ugg boots. Forgetting the past is impractical and impeding the future is unimaginable.
And eventually, despite your best efforts, your true self will shine through. So live in the present, be yourself, and invest yourself in the new friendships you will create here at Fairfield.
Most of all, never forget where you came from, even if this new place seems like home.
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