homesick.

i wasn’t good at spending the night away from home when i was a kid.

well, actually, i wasn’t good when i was in college. i was homesick the entire first year.

it was august 24, 1997. i remember my dad giving me a black binder for school. we were standing at the back of flippen perrin. he handed me this black binder and told me not to open it until i got inside.

they drove off. i couldn’t force myself to turn around and look. it was just too much. i walked into my dorm room and into the bathroom. i shut the door and sat down on the toilet seat. and opened that binder.

there was a note there. it read...

my dear hannah – i am so proud of you. today, you are starting a new chapter of your life. i know that i will cry this afternoon when we part; i’m crying now.

for 18 years, mom and i have tried to make sure we were always there for you. she has been better and more diligent than i, but our love for you has been of equal degree. we both love you as completely as possible.

you have never disappointed us. you have been more than we could have dreamed for. i wish your grandparents were here to see you. they all would be so proud.

i have no doubt that you will succeed. you have the ability to be anything you desire to be.

i cannot be with you now, but i am content with the fact that i know you will be fine. only when you are blessed with children of your own will you be able to understand how proud and good i feel today.

i love you. dad.

that letter lives in my box. and pretty much...i have it memorized.

today, my mom left to go back home. i tried not to cry while she was here...and i succeeded. i was back in the house before the tears began streaming down my face.

i don’t know what’s wrong with me. yes, my hormones are completely out of wack. but that’s not completely it.

i am terrified. scared. feel like i did when i was a kid. feel like i need someone’s mother to call my parents and tell them that i’m homesick...and that i need to be picked up from the bunking party. as soon as everyone would get their sleeping bags out, i’d be on the phone to my parents.

that’s what i need now. i need someone to call my mom and tell her to come back. to come back and get me. i’ll be waiting at the front door with my bags. and as soon as i see her headlights, i’ll feel better.

i keep going back to that letter now. the part about “i cannot be with you now, but i am content with the fact that i know you will be fine”. i wonder if he feels that way about my situation now. i wonder if they think i’m capable of this. this “being a mother”.

it’s times like these i realize that i never said thank you enough. i haven’t been as good to my parents as i should have been. it’s times like these i have a hard time understanding how my mother lost her mother at such a young age. i cannot imagine.

it’s times like these i realize how lucky and how blessed i am.

i’m going to go dry off my face. and act like i’m mature enough to be someone’s mother...and someone’s wife.

maybe...just maybe, dad is right. maybe...i’ll be fine.