I used to be eager for the holidays to arrive. Family, good food, presents, and no worries. Now I’ve grown. The three hour drive seems to draw out, my stomach hurts after the rich food, I’m too old for presents, and the world seems to grow darker by each day. My family is still family… But you know how it goes. Casual hateful comments grow tiresome after explaining time and time again that “no you can’t say men are better than women” and “no I don’t want to drive in your truck that has confederate and Trump flags hanging off the back” and “no the election was not stolen” and “no trans people are not pedophiles”. It makes sense when you realize that isolated town is 99.9% white, and the only church in town is Catholic. 

When my family asks me “how’s school going? What are you majoring in again?” I tend to change my answer from person to person. For my bigoted uncle, something in agriculture. To my slightly less bigoted cousin, sustainable agriculture. To my sweet as pie aunt married to the bigoted uncle, environmental studies. For my 11 year old cousin with her innocence yet preserved, environmental humanities. She reminds me of how I used be. She gorges on sweets and grasshopper milkshakes that my grandpa makes. Rips open her piles of presents with gusto and poses for the paparazzi of cameras flashing at her. I am an environmentalist for her, and for the generations that come after me.

In the end it doesn’t matter the answer I tell them. They will forget, and the next time, we’ll have the exact same conversation. 

“How’s school going?”

“Good.”

Sometimes, on my way to class, a song will come on, a song that was my home when I was facing my first few weeks as a college freshman. 

The transformation, like Cinderella’s dress, happens quickly. I’m back in bed. Not my bed now — my bed then. Tears drying on my face. The ache in my throat as I speak to my mom on the phone. Her voice through the speaker: We love you.

I miss home. 

I’m not even that far away. I wasn’t then and I’m not now. An hour and forty five minutes. 

There’s something about the feeling of loneliness, helplessness, that makes any distance an ocean. Transformation.

I didn’t know what I was facing. But crying didn’t do me any good then, and it doesn’t do me any good now.

I’m stronger now. I have loving friends, and I’m better acquainted with my future. It’s less of a dark void now. Transformation.

Like a fairy tale, the happily ever after always comes. I might still be waiting for it, but I can see it’s on its way. I go through the motions. I go to class, office hours, the store. Getting nearer now.

Waiting for the transformation.

Today, I walk through the rain. My shoes get soaked. I have an umbrella, learned from my mistakes. I wave to a friend. A song comes on. I smile.

Transformed.

As an outsider to Wooster, looking in, my heart was full of optimism. The day of my tour was bright and sunny, and my heart was optimistic. Like many of us, as soon as I actually got here, I felt like I’d bit off more than I could chew, like I couldn’t do this. I missed my friends and family, and I thought I’d never acclimate to college life. I didn’t feel prepared. For my blog post, I wanted to focus on that feeling that so many of us know: the specific moment of that phone call with your parents, telling them everything that’s going wrong, how scared you are, how lonely you feel. I wanted to take that feeling and show its evolution to today. Adjustment is an ongoing process, and I’m still learning to live with the ways my life is different, but I’ve changed so much and learned to be excited for change. I might always have that feeling following me, but at least I’ve transformed to be okay with it.