Home Is Where The Heart Is

It is officially August. Those July heat waves have subsided, we’ve gotten our summer tan, whether natural or tanning bed induced, we’ve worn the hell out of our short shorts, tank tops and flip flops. We are slowly getting the hang of this adult thing. Until we get on Facebook and we see a bunch of statuses from our friends who have not graduated saying, “Parents irritating the hell out of me. Ready to go back to school. #15 days” “Miss all my friends. Can’t wait to reunite!” and “I miss all of our shenanigans. I’m ready for the back to school gym jam!” As you are mindlessly scrolling through all of the status updates you subconsciously do a self evaluation where you realize that you feel just like your friends despite the fact that many of them are just your Twitter followers and not your friends in real life. It doesn’t matter because right now you are in sync with their emotions. Your parents are also getting on your nerves and you are tired of being at home as well. You want more shenanigans and time for memory making too. But you cannot have many of these things because you’ve graduated. Then it hits you, like the school bus that obliterated Regina George in Mean Girls, for the first time in your existence its August and you are not preparing for school. No more buying books, no more last minute errands, no more preparing to move into a new space. That part of your life is over. And it feels weird. Your entire life all you’ve ever known was school and now that chapter of your life is over­­ –at least for the time being. Luckily for me one of my roommates from my summer ’12 apartment, who was a recent graduate at the time, shared some of her wisdom with me about this hard life that I am now experiencing. Saraphina told me and my other roommate Cassidy, both of us approaching our senior year naïve about how difficult life was about to get for us, that August of 2013 was coming for us and it would make us feel strange. All those damn statuses reminding us about a life we used to have a life that is now gone. Think about it, we have spent four years in a place where we’ve grown, cried, experienced life and made some kickass memories. But now this place we called home is no longer ours. We are now visitors.

At my institution our unofficial theme song is Wagon Wheel by Old Crow Medicine Show. Now I never heard this song before I came to college. But like everyone else when it came on at social events I would sing along and enjoy those three minutes and fifty-six seconds. Never in a million years would I have ever thought I would play that song by choice. Yet here I am one and a half months out of college playing Wagon Wheel on YouTube by choice. I am under no circumstances being forced against my will. Now I know what you’re thinking, one time is not that bad, London. You are overreacting you drama queen. Now let’s not result to name calling but I do appreciate you recognizing that I am royalty. Honestly, I am glad you noticed and I did not have to tell you. This is proof that our friendship will go far.   However, I played the song multiple times not two, three or four but the song was on repeat for like an hour and a half while I filled out job applications screaming out: “rock me mama like a wagon wheel. Heyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyy mama rock me” in my Southern voice that my roommate Maria helped me perfect. On another note, this southern voice of mine sounds best when I’m hot then I can say things like it’s hotter in here than three sinners in church. Now I understand that you are questioning where I stand on the royal hierarchy of drama queenness, especially after telling you about my fake southern voice, but I promise you I am not exaggerating. My sudden crave to listen to Old Crow Medicine Show when the only musician I listen to on repeat is Beyoncé should be enough proof to anyone that you will deeply miss that place you once called home.

During my graduation, our class president Hillary said something during her speech that stuck with me (and obviously applies to this post). Hillary referred to the saying home is where your heart is. She went on talking about how our school has captured her heart over the past four years and no matter where in the world she ends up she knows she will always have a home at the place where she entered as a girl and left a woman, our alma mater, because that is where her heart is. So as we deal with the weird feelings that come with not going back to school this fall and watching our college student friends go back to a place that used to be ours, instead of envying them because their weekends still start on Thursday, let’s remember the words of Señorita Hillary, home is where the heart is and as long as your heart is with your alma mater you will always have a home there. Lesson Learned.