Imagine sitting at the kitchen table every night, head bent over bills, trying to make pennies stretch into places where dollar bills are necessary…
…Working fifty hours a week behind a desk, then returning to work five more hours each night, cooking…cleaning…ironing…reviewing eighth grade Math, English & Science…
…Walking in circles for a few hours…lost & disoriented…unsure of where you are, where you were going, and where you are now supposed to be…
…Your hand being unable to open that ketchup bottle…water bottle…jar of jelly…too weak to twist off that “easy-open” cap…
…Inserting shots into your stomach every two weeks to maintain consciousness, trying to find a spot that isn’t too sore from the last shot & isn’t too tough from the 60+ shots that came before…
You’re imagining my mom.
Imagine running from the bus to your house, running from bullies who grab you right before you make it to the door, throw down your bag and jump you…
…Sitting in class every day, frustrated by the endless numbers and words that jump out from the lifeless pages of your textbook, your uncertainty developing into embarrassment…
…Waiting for hours for your father to show up with that game he promised, only to find out that he wasn’t able to stretch his check that far…maybe next month…
…Burning inside with energy and anger that you can’t explain, can’t contain, and can’t shake…emotions that need to find their way out, but remain trapped inside…
…Struggling with teenage thoughts, hormones, & doubts…trying to find your way in a world where kids are cruel, teachers don’t listen, and Mom is on her own & stressed…
You’re imagining my little brother.
Imagine loving the opportunities that are presented at your college, embracing the friends, classes, teachers & new activities…
…Waking up each day with your own agenda, going to sleep at night with a list of things “To-Do” the next day…all seeming as urgent & important as yesterday’s…
…Being thankful that you’ve been blessed with so much, financial aid, Office of Black Student Affairs, mentors…knowledge…
…Picking up the phone to hear about how hectic your mom’s day has been…why your brother got suspended yet again, and how the car broke down on the interstate…AGAIN…
…Knowing that you can’t be there to beat up those bullies, iron his shirt, or open that ketchup bottle…
…Imagine 1,794 miles…
Now, you’re imagining me.
Growing up, I was my mom’s right hand. I helped her before she realized she needed assistance. I played with my brother, relishing in my role as his sister. The six years between us made me more like a second mother than a big sister. When I decided to go to school so far away from home, leaving family behind was the hardest decision. I was still only a phone call away, but I was also $600 and at least 7 hours from home.
My advice to those of you who are considering college out-of-state: GO FOR IT. Weigh your options carefully, but the next four years of your life will be a time of growth, change, and adjustment. Although I did get homesick my first year, and I hate hearing about the problems my brother & mom go through, I wouldn’t trade my experience at Pomona for anywhere else. Learning to balance my life away from home with the one I had before & will have after graduation has helped me learn how to stay in contact with those that I care about & vice versa.
You don’t lose your family or close friends by moving outside state lines. In fact, those who are most important will remain with you, even if the communication style changes. It also helps that my mom and brother are fully supportive of my decision, and that other students at school, including my best friend, traveled far from home, as well. There will be up’s and down’s, but I know that looking back, I will appreciate the risk I took & the sacrifices that everyone dear to me made for these four years.
I text my mom every morning & tell her good night, every evening…so even though I am not there physically, I’m still her right hand…and I’m still willing to go above and beyond as her daughter & as Thurm’s big sister…
“The distance is nothing…it is only the first step that is difficult…” (Madame Marie du Deffand)