College happened. I travelled a short distance, actually. I lived nearly twenty minutes from Pittsburgh and I am now at Carnegie Mellon. My friends followed their destinies and attended their colleges, such as Virginia Tech and Case Western. They won't have such an easy time coming home as I will.

A month ago, I figured that if I ever got homesick, I could easily hop on a bus and reach my house in a half hour. Home would always be there, just like I left it. That just isn't the case.

I've been away for only three weeks, and already things are different. I drove by my old high school the day before I left for college. It felt different. I didn't have a feeling of excitement in starting a new year. There wasn't the sense of a second home like there is when I would practically live there in the spring. Instead, the school felt old, distant. The familiarity was a feeling of rememberance. It seemed as if I had graduated years ago when it had only been three months.

My most favorite priest ever has also been transferred. Instead of coming home and celebrating mass with a familiar face, a stranger will be at the pulpit. My car will no longer be my car as my 16-year-old sister assumes the wheel. The convertible will only be a memory.

The memories of my friends and I driving around our little school district. My friends won't even be there. Home now feels like a museum. I go to see how all the exhibits, like my house and church, look after all the years.

Now my home is college. Making new friends, life-long friends. I know that I can always go back to my old house, but home is now the four walls of my dorm. My dorm is changing too, but I'm here to change it, to witness the changes, to grow along side.