My apologies to the members of the Cult of Fall Breakianism, but the year’s first real holiday is almost at hand. Of course I’m talking about Thanksgiving vacation, when this campus will (or so I’ve heard) become a ghost town. It won’t be completely deserted, but there will certainly be more than a few students heading home. Students like me. Tuesday afternoon I’ll leave my last class of the day, pack my bags and not too long after be stepping off a plane to a warm reception from my family. What follows will be five days of sleeping-in, taking nice long showers and not having to worry about whether or not I can eat something because it costs too many meal points. Sounds great, doesn’t it?

I’m not sure it’s that simple. To think that it will have been close to three months since I saw my mother is kind of scary. So too is not having heard my sister’s voice since August. What if my dog, with whom I played fetch every day of the summer, doesn’t even remember who I am? Yes, I’m being melodramatic and I know it. My mom and sister will certainly remember me, and as my dad told me during Parents Weekend, dogs have no sense of time. Thus, I feel secure in expecting a warm reception at the airport and at home. I’ll unpack my things in my room (which I’m sure will have been thoroughly cleaned in anticipation of my arrival), and by the time I wake up in my cozy bed the next morning, it’ll feel like I never left.

But I did leave, and I can prove it with one word: driving.

That’s right, I haven’t gotten behind the wheel of a car (or even the handlebars of a bicycle) during my time at college. I envy all the upper classmen who, despite their insistence otherwise, I suspect of having formed an underground racing circuit a la “The Fast and the Furious.” On a less intense level, I just miss being able to go where I want, when I want. For a few days I’ll get a taste of that privilege once again.

Driving isn’t the only one of my former habits (if you can call it that) that seems almost alien now. People who hear me play might be surprised to know it, but I actually used to possess some semblance of talent on the piano. A couple hours of practice over the span of several months has forced me to rethink my future at Carnegie Hall, though. It’s a similar story with guitar, where I don’t think I’ll be touring with Joe Satriani any time soon. And as for writing that great American novel, I’m still stuck on page one.

I don’t think I’ve forgotten how to do any of these things, however. I know (and I’m sure some scientists can explain with eloquent language and big words why this is) that I can still drive, play piano and guitar, write something creative, or do any of the various other activities that I haven’t been able to do here.

Don’t get me wrong-I’ve loved college life thus far. It’s been about a hundred times better than I could have ever imagined. Nevertheless, it will surely be nice to go back to my old routine, even if it’s only for a few days. With that being said, I’d advise everyone who’s going home for break to forget his or her life here. No I don’t mean that you shouldn’t work on that essay that’s due the day after you get back or that you shouldn’t keep in contact with all your friends here, but I do think that you should take some time to remember your roots. Reunite with the people you haven’t seen for so long, return to your old stomping grounds, even take some time just to sit back and enjoy the warm feeling that comes with being home. I know I will.

Brian in a freshman in Arts & Sciences. He can be reached via e-mail at [email protected].

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