Home on the Range

Many people are happy to get away from their homes. I was fortunate enough to have a wonderful life at home, in a good school, with wonderful friends. But now, now that I'm 300km away, the wonderful life at home no longer exists, I am now in a larger school where I am merely a number to much of the bureaucracy, and my wonderful friends at home drift farther and farther away from me, as I change from somebody present to somebody past. As I change from what I was at home, to something I'm not sure I'm going to like.

And this somebody, me, while facing the academic challenge of his life, is trying to show people what missing home is all about. It's not about a search for lost security; it's about the people that you love, at home, now in the process of moving on--and all you can do is watch from the sidelines. You can no longer say "I truly belong."

With this loss comes a loss of security, something that consciously or unconsciously drives everyone to gather into packs. Look at Frosh Week, and you'll see it's true. And the wolves concentrate on the lone ones, the vulnerable ones, the ones who couldn't find any packs. It's a pretty interesting fight; and a very tough one.

This fight is puncuated with questions, rapid-fire: How do you tell somebody you care when all they do is run away? How do you tell a friend from 300km away that they're lucky that they didn't have to start over? How do you explain to everybody what missing home is? Most people never understand the true, deep, horrible understanding of that idea "leaving home"; I'm committed to what I'm doing here at UW for four years. Possibly more, in locations farther away. Returning home for more than a short visit is not possible. (Short of flunking out, that is, and that's something I DO NOT plan to do.)

And the little disagreements that punctuate friendships every so often threaten to grow out of control, because you are not forced to confront them. At present, I am rather annoyed with a friend who cut an article of mine without warning (after saying it would be included in the newsletter). Unfortunately, that friend is also 300km away; and I have heard nothing from him since then.

You know, I called my friends, today, long distance from Waterloo, while they were having a Birthday party. I wanted a break. I wanted to reassure myself that there were people out there, somewhere, to which I was more than a number, more than just a passing face in a crowded hallway. I ended up being hacked for five minutes. And I greeted a whole lot of misunderstanding.

Some of them know. Some of them try to understand, even when they don't have the knowledge, or when they're afraid. And for that, I'm grateful. As for the rest, well...

I said "I miss you all more than any of you could probably ever understand. Goodbye."

I don't think anybody heard me.