9.26.09 Reflection on "Home"

Returning home Friday, September 25th presented a slew of mixed emotions in my already mixed mind. It was overwhelming. Living in Washington DC for this near month and a half stay has been by far my longest time away from home. Until riding the R5 train to our suburban Philadelphia Fort Washington station, I passed the weeks in Washington occupied and invigorated so my mind strayed from thoughts of home. I realize now how much I miss the last eighteen years of my life. The security and love of family, the familiarity of my house's turns, the solitude I find in my bedroom are all greatly missed. Life is changed in college, and only now can I confirm that the seemingly fictional and Hollywood-ized depiction of going home is without a doubt very true.

My mom picked me up at the train station, beaming a smile like I've never seen. She brought our dog Rascal who greeted me in his own, though equally exuberant dog way. My mom proceeded, as planned quite sneakily, to pick up my dad from a different train station as he returned from a long business trip out west. The two returned home and my dad opened the door to find me, his only son, waiting with a hug. He did a double take as he first glanced me, but soon his expression was one of sheer happiness. He even called me as I rode the train home, and I had to carefully place my words so as not to ruin the surprise. It was worth it. He said it was his best surprise ever, that much better since coming off an exhausting trip. We had pizza and hung out for the night. It was a great weekend.

So now I prepare for my voyage home. I have to admit I am a bit melancholy, but optimistic to continue my time if Washington. I appreciate the warmth and comfort of the green leather chair I sit in now. Rascal is sleeping in a familiar spot on the sofa. The Chinctoteague Island Easter Decoy Festival posters wear the cream colored walls behind them. The soft glow of the two shaded lamps evenly fill the room. This is the way things have been for years. I won't see them until Thanksgiving. I'll survive. Leaving home, I learned this weekend, makes the return that much more glorious.