We asked our first year writers what it was like to be back home for the first time. Here’s what they told us.
I was really, really excited to go home for Thanksgiving. My heart was all aflutter when my mom’s car pulled up outside the airport. We got to our house around one in the morning and I spent the next few hours eating corn flakes and watching Parks and Rec in my living room. It was almost as if I’d never left. Except everything was off, somehow. My bed felt smaller, my desk was too empty, and I couldn’t remember which toothbrush was mine in the bathroom. It was a little disconcerting to realize how much Kenyon has changed me in minute ways, from the time of day in which I shower to my preferred peanut butter consistency (once a smooth enthusiast, now chunky 4ever). When I finally saw my friends, we all swapped stories about our schools. Complaints about shitty roommates (not mine) and gross food (Peirce makes my heart sing) were told with as much vigor as the tales of successful hookups and great classes. It was comforting to know that everyone was experiencing highs and lows during their first semesters, and a good reminder that no place is amazing 100% of the time
Despite all the comforts of home, I found myself missing Kenyon things: the perfectly halved grapefruits served daily, the beautiful scenery, the tender companionship of the lady beetles on my ceiling. And although it was great to be home, I’m sure glad I’m back.