Episode 22: Ode to Coming Home from College
Hi everyone, I hope you’re doing as well as you can be today. This week’s poem and episode reflect on something that I believe many students can relate to right now: coming home from college/university for the spring and summer (though it can absolutely apply to returning home after having been away a long time, too). The poem and episode look at the possible tension between the comforts/familiarity of a childhood home and the newfound freedom/independence we seek as young adults, perhaps realizing for the first time that we aren’t merely extensions of our parents or guardians. It’s strange returning to a place that hasn’t changed when we have. The poem is written in a loose sapphic ode (four-stanza sections called quatrains—the first three lines of each have 11 syllables and the fourth has five). This form is usually formal, lyric, and ceremonious, written and recited to celebrate ideas, people, places, etc. Though I’ve stretched the stitching of the form, I hope it fits as a way to reflect on (and inherently honour) one of the deepest moments of knowing in our lives.
I’ll share it with you now:
When I hiked through my front door after the first
four-month block away, I noticed I’d split in
half. I’d changed & grown. But home? It hadn’t, no.
And I’m navy blue
here, where everyone waits to cater to me:
cook me veggie lasagna, wash my boxers,
vacuum my bedroom floor, vinegar my sink
scrub my soiled dishes,
help me pay for doctor’s visits/groceries?\.
It’s comfortable, familiar, and safe.
Yet suffocated, stunted, trapped. Never in
danger, but not free.
Where & when are my parents not part of me?
In different things, I now see and believe.
I want to feel I’m nearly twenty. Yet, in
loving, always we.
Why is it far that I want to run from here?
And fast to separate fear from mournful tears?
Of anger? No. Of confliction, bittersweet.
To see and hear them
offering a tender nest of sharing love,
while speaking to my soul: take risks, grow, fly, yes.
My mistake, I know, was thinking I was new
fresh, crisp green against
the pale, stale, beige of the same house, same parents.
No trail is ever lived alone, even if
alone it is walked. To be your own self, don’t
feel like you have to
emotionally distance yourself from them
if they care. And even so, they’ll know, setting
boundaries is fair. And love is there, just where
same meets different.
Breathe the words in. What do they make you feel or think? How did they connect with your senses? What colours or symbols did you notice? What meaning did you draw? Metaphors? Interpretations? Clarity? Messages?
