“Last day home” and “It’s been real guys, see you at Christmas!” Slowly everyone from my grade is making the journey to their new respective homes for the year: college. I am about to “embark on the next chapter of my life” along with all of the other people I graduated with three months ago. Corny clichés aside, this is the first time many people are living away from home. 

College was always a black and white subject growing up.  I read all the right books, and watched all the coming of age movies that pointed to one thing: College. It was always expected, and embedded in my 6-year-old mind. 

“Little boxes on the hillside, Little boxes made of ticky tacky,Little boxes on the hillside, Little boxes all the same. There's a green one and a pink one  And a blue one and a yellow one, And they're all made out of ticky tacky And they all look just the same. And the people in the houses All went to the university, Where they were put in boxes And they came out all the same, And there's doctors and lawyers, And business executives, And they're all made out of ticky tacky And they all look just the same.”

— Malvina Reynolds

Growing up, my sister and I spent a lot of time together because she was the one that always babysat me while our mom was working. But that drastically changed when she became pregnant at 17. Our relationship completely changed because instead of her always being around me she was suddenly not there as much, and I think being only 4 when she was pregnant it was difficult for me to understand the whole situation. As a kid, I know I loved my baby niece but at the same time I was in a way jealous because before that I was the center of attention with my sister. Being so young at the time my sister got pregnant, our relationship was forever changed in a way; it brought us closer and separated us at the same time.

I wish I knew how truly permanent a tattoo or piercing was. Not that I didn’t know what permanent meant, but I wish I truly understood the concept that while it would stick with me, unchanged, for life, I would most certainly not remain unchanged. Skin shrivels and moves and droops, so your accessories should accommodate those changes, not go along for the ride.

My mother has three—and only three—stories about high school, which she continually tells on a rotating basis. The first is about cutting her afternoon classes to watch the show Dark Shadows through the window of a neighborhood television store, and the second is about making her own freeze-dried coffee in the basement of her best friend's house (who knows, it was the 60’s…).