Homesickness

Hey guys,

I'm writing today because I'm going on an orchestra retreat all day tomorrow and I won't have a chance to write.

I just got back from dinner at the home of the school's music secretary. One of the other cellists in the orchestra, a junior, invited my friend and I to a little informal Asian food dinner party sort of thing. It was wonderful. We crowded around the table in her little apartment and rolled sushi (something I've never done before). There were some other people there, recent graduates of my college. They reminisced about their time at Westmont and asked my friends and I about our classes.

It was really nice. I didn't realize how much I missed the simple act of making food. Don't get me wrong, the cafeteria food at the school is really good, but it's not a home-cooked meal. There's just something about making it yourself, you know?

Which got me thinking. I don't know if I mentioned it before, but I haven't really been feeling homesick-- or so I thought. Well, as it turns out, I am homesick. But not in the sense that I miss my home; what I miss is home in general. In the abstract sense. Home.

The dorm is where I live. And I love it-- honestly, I do. But it's not a home. I don't know if I'm even making sense but maybe you guys understand. My home is far away but home is a five-minute drive from campus-- all you need is an invitation and an upperclassman with a car. Home is a tattered welcome mat, an open door, a homemade meal, a family. Home is everywhere-- but it no longer belongs to me.

I'm not lonely. I don't miss Colorado-- or, at least, not very much. I love this school, and I love my life right now. But I'm homesick.

And on that note, my good friends, I leave you.

DFTBA,
Emily