So, good news. I had the opportunity to go home this weekend!
I would have written about it sooner, had it not been for the way everything went down.
Another thing you should know about me. I have this annoying habit of getting a grand idea in my head and ignoring everything else until I do it.
My best friend, Dawn, knows this. So, she probably should have known better than allowing the following conversation to take place. It was Wednesday night. I was sitting on my bed, daydreaming about leaving for Howell on Friday. We were talking on Facebook.
Me: I wanna go home now. I’m going to miss Jack’s first marching band performance.
Dawn: When do you leave?
Dawn: I’m sorry.
Me: I don’t wanna wait until Friday.
Dawn: Okay, then go now.
The idea hadn’t occurred to me, but I loved it.
I had changed my bus reservation to Thursday afternoon, e-mailed my professors to let them know I wouldn’t be in class, tossed my laundry in a basket, and started making phone calls, trying to find someone who would be able to pick me up in Toledo on Friday morning. My father was happy to oblige.
I feel like I’m currently surviving college on a break-to-break basis. When I’m here, I’m here. But I’m keeping track of the weeks, days, and hours until I get to hop on a bus and go home.
On Thursday, after work, I ran back to my dorm, gulped down lunch, and grabbed my suitcase. The Megabus pick-up spot is roughly two miles from my dorm. But I was stubborn and unwilling to take a cab.
That was a fun walk.
By the time I got there, I was sweaty, tired, and just in time to get in line and board the bus.
Megabuses, I’ll add, are much nicer than I thought they would be. It’s worth the money. You usually get your own outlet, there are never enough people going to the Midwest to fill an entire bus, and the seats are comfortable. Definitely preferable to Greyhounds.
We decided to keep my early arrival a secret from my brother. I’d make it home just in time to wake him up for school on Friday morning.
When we got home, I made scrambled eggs and toast for Jack. He came downstairs and stared at me for ten or fifteen seconds before turning around and sitting on the couch in the living room with his head in his hands.
Laughing, I walked over to him.
“Did I break you?”
“How did you get here?”
“No, you didn’t!”
When I finally assured him that no, I didn’t walk, I fed him and ushered him out the door. Then, I changed clothes and headed off to the high school. It was seven o’clock in the morning, and I hadn’t slept at all the night before. But I was too hyper to care.
I spent the day visiting teachers, helping drama classes, and getting yelled at by security guards. I got home around two and crashed, hopelessly exhausted.
I spent the evening watching my little brother march and hanging out with Dawn. That night, she slept over and we talked for hours. We spent the next day watching Jack Reacher and eating pizza.
It was definitely worth coming home early.
Saturday and Sunday were mostly spent with Katie and Jack at the Jane Tasch Theatre where they were doing lights for a production.
Monday was difficult for me. I knew I was going back the next day and I wouldn’t see everyone again for six weeks. But my dad tried to ease the pain. We spent the day shopping together.
The next morning, I was back on a bus.
The ride to Manhattan was nowhere near as enjoyable as the ride home. I spent the majority of the ride looking out the window and wishing I could turn around.
But now I’m here, in my dorm, writing this post. And it’s only six shorts weeks until I’m hopping on a bus again.
I can’t wait for that.