It feels good to be at home.
Pondering on what to do aside from reading the assigned readings for next week, I asked myself: when can I go back home? I’ve yearned to come back to one of the places where I learned so much about life and work. And finally, I had the chance to go back home.
Four months after graduation, I finally had time to come back to where I came from: my high school. Everything felt so different, yet so the same when I walked down the halls of my home for the past four years of my rocky road life. It was weird seeing all those girls in pink shirts and not knowing who they were. It was so nice seeing the familiar faces of the girls from the lower batches. I even got to meet the girl who wrote the prophecy for me (who turns out to be their batch valedictorian in grade school). Seeing all those familiar faces, including some teachers and staff, made me have a feeling of reassurance – that I can always come back home and be comfortable. The struggles brought about by the first few weeks of college made me feel really uncomfortable and uneasy. Coming back home really made my day, my week.
On my way to my destination, I saw Ate Vivian, the guard who was assigned at the entrance that I always use. She was thrilled to see me, as I was thrilled to see her. She told me about the few changes that occurred for the new school year. Wow, so much can change in so little time. I saw many more teachers, and they asked me how college was. I said, “stressful. It’s not the same stress as high school stress.” They reassured me that I can do it, and so I left them, hurrying.
I visited my club, First Aid. I bought them pizza, too. Wow, I bought pizza for 11 strangers. *moving on* A sophomore member came to me and hugged me, and ranted about how she’s stressed about the school punishing her. I felt her woes, but I was flattered because she shared her frustrations with me. As the session started, our dear moderator gave a few reminders, then I had the flood to myself. I was never comfortable in speaking about my experiences in front of crowds, especially in full English (well, Koreans were in the crowd so I had to speak in English). After sharing my stressful first aide experience, we ate. A few photos were taken, then I went off to look for teachers.
I was able to speak to our assistant principal for academic affairs. She was warm, as always. I was able to share my struggles, and she was there to say that I can do it. She reminded me of my past struggles, reminding me that my past struggles were worse than what I’m going through now. I left her, hoping to see her again. As I waited for my mom, I saw one of the teachers who made me cry (a lot) in senior year. We were, of course, casual. I greeted him on my way to club, so I guess we’re fine. He asked me about college and where I attend college, and he left. Well, it was nice speaking to him, knowing that I trusted him well before the mishaps happened. My mom came, and then I left
On my way home, I realized how I easily forgot all the bad things that happened to me in school. All that I remembered were the fun stuff. I guess that’s what you feel when you’re at home in a certain place. It’s like all the bad things are dust particles in the air: they’re there, but you can’t see them.
High school will always be special to me, my glory days. I miss high school now. How I wish I could go back in time.