There comes an age when you realize the difference between homesick and home, sick.
Homesickness happens after moving out of state. You miss the backyard you grew up in, your family and friends, whatever it may be that just isn’t the same in your new digs. Home, sick happens when you’re too hungover to function or you’re legitimately ill, sometimes even ill due to the hangover. Most importantly, home, sick, as an adult, is when you realize how great it was when your parents were there to take care of you. Home, sick leads to homesick.
Maybe it was because I have no siblings, but my parents upped the love when I had what my father referred to as “the punies,” always pronounced with an exaggerated pout and a pat on the head, whether I was six or sixteen. He’d then quickly step away and make an x with his index fingers. “Love you, but I don’t want it,” he said, shaking his head sadly. Read More »
My mom flitted around me, putting silk napkins down at the empty place settings and touching the pine branch centerpiece. She was anxious. I can always tell when my mom is anxious because she hovers, does everything twice, and buzzes around a space without sitting down for hours.
Her parents were coming up, driving all day from Pennsylvania. They had been driving all day yesterday too. Their long journey meant that as soon as they got here, my grandparents would drive my mom insane. It wasn’t that they weren’t nice people. They were very nice; they just had a habit of making everyone feel like they should be praised for the sacrifices they made for their child. A lot.
“I’m not sure what I’m gonna do. Probably nothing.” I took a bite of cereal and watched my mom touch the tablecloth for the seventh time. It was only 9:30 in the morning, and she was already up and showered and in full hostess mode. I was still in my pajamas. I had been in my pajamas for the last day and a half. It was great.
“You should really get up and get out.” She frowned at an invisible stain on one of the napkins. “Being inside all this time isn’t good for you.”
“Mom. I just got home.”
“So? Vacation doesn’t mean you hibernate for weeks. Sometimes you can be quite lazy, Miss.” Read More »
“How long did you stay?” Rebecca threw a pair of socks into her suitcase and looked up from her underwear drawer. “Did you listen to their entire conversation?”
“I had to! I didn’t want Public Safety to know I was sitting there!” Standing by Stacey’s mirror, I poked around her jewelry, moving pairs of pearl earrings and fake diamond bracelets in an attempt to find a ring of mine that had disappeared a few weeks ago. Stacey was big on barrowing without asking.
“Did they talk for a long time?” Closing one drawer and opening another, Rebecca continued to pack her bag. She was leaving early for the Thanksgiving holiday, a fact I had not received well. Three whole days living in a room with Stacey by myself spelled absolute misery.
“The cop said they had heard about a party at the Soccer House the night before, but of course Sasha denied it.” A flash of jade stood out from the mess of cubic zirconium, and I carefully began to untangle my ring from one of Stacey’s cheap necklaces. “He got all mad at the cop. Said they were being unfair…staking the house out and stuff. He said it wasn’t politically correct.” Read More »
I admit, I’m a product of the suburbs. My hometown is full of big, leafy trees, smiling children and drive – thru Starbucks that close at ten. It’s a great place to raise a family — but not such a hot place to be 21 in.
Going home from college is often more of a culture shock than a relief, and summer offers the most excruciating spell of the suburban blahs for us hip young folk. And it gets worse as we get older: old high school friends start disappearing and the townsfolk start expecting something from your burgeoning age and wisdom. Thus, I’ve crafted a survival guide for those contained to station – wagon – filled confines for the summer months:
1. Milk it. This is obvious and essential. If you’re back living with your parents, fill up. Eat. Sleep. Play the “I’m a poor college student, I don’t eat!” card. Play the “I’m stressed, I just finished finals!” card. Play them hard. And for at least two weeks. You need only to get out of bed for meals.
2. Grandma. At the end of your two weeks of eating and sleeping, you might be feeling a little lonely. A faithful friend who always wants to hang out with you is Grandma. (If Grandma is not available, try Grandpa, Aunt, Uncle, Friendly Old Shop Clerk, Town Pastor, Neighbor, etc.). Basically, old people are cool and can tell you a lot about life if you ask the right questions, and you’re guaranteed to get a meal out of it. Read More »
There comes an age when you realize the difference between homesick and home, sick.
I admit, I’m a product of the suburbs. My hometown is full of big, leafy trees, smiling children and drive – thru 
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