A few hours later, I’m back at the airport, waiting for my boyfriend’s arrival home. He steps off the plane with the same groggy but excited look I wore hours before. We drive over to see my dad. I ask to see my room, expecting to find

my shrine, my old pompoms, prom pictures, candid photos of friends and dolls scattered about. To my surprise, everything is gone; there’s not even a trace I had ever lived in the room. It’s as if the second I became a “college” student, I had ceased to exist.

I run into two of my best friends from high school; we stare blankly at each other. It’s as if we have nothing to say to each other. I wonder how things have changed so much in such a small amount of time. I had been so excited to come home, but now I just look at it all and wonder: Is it me? My room isn’t the same, my friends and I don’t share the same bond, and my parents don’t know how to treat me.

I get back to school feeling half-fulfilled, but not disappointed. I sit up in my bed in my dorm room, surrounded by my pictures, dolls and mementos. I realise that I can’t expect the world to stand still and move forward at the same time. I can’t change and expect that things at home will stay the same. I have to find comfort in what has changed and what is new.

A few weeks later, I’m packing again for winter break. My mom meets me

at the curb. I have come home accepting the changes, not only in my surroundings, but most of all in me. — Beliefnet.com (Concluded)