HomeBound

The clock is yet to read 10:00 am on a Friday morning and I am already off to home carrying my back pack and duffle bag. I guess coming to college I did learn an integral life skill: PACKING.

 

Over the last six months I have managed to travel home every weekend. The fact that it only takes me 1.5 hours to reach home makes going home obvious for me.

 

It’s not like I don’t try at all to stay behind.

Every week, till Thursday, I am determined to stay over the weekend but each Friday morning I hear this mysterious voice which calls me back home and before I know it, I am all packed and ready to go.

I am not sure why this call arises. Cause my college life is far from miserable. The campus is cool, I have a bunch of awesome friends and my hostel dorm is cozy.

I guess being an introvert I just need a time off from everyone and everything. I need to go home and recharge my social quota.

 

I have already been teased a lot by my friends on my escape sequence. I have received all those memes and reels of that one friend who goes home every weekend but guys I can’t help it, its probably genetics. Both my parents used to rush home every weekend too, moreover they used to skip classes to reach home early. At least I improved on that part.

I don’t miss classes but then I guess I got lucky this semester that on Friday I have got lectures till 9:40 am only which means most of my friends just made it from bed to bathroom but I on the other am already home.

 

What do I do when I get home?

Well, there’s a ton to do.

Firstly, I sleep, I sleep a lot when I get home, the level of peace and relaxation is unpowered.

Next, I gossip with my mother, about most of the things.

Then I study, okay that’s a lie I just take out the random two notebooks I brought and leaf through them just so they don’t feel sad on being neglected.

Next, I roam behind my mother as she does her chores. It’s the most satisfying thing seeing every task being done.

Then I get to eat food, that tastes like reality.

I then bond with my younger brother.

Go on a walk or cycling. When my father is home, I even try out gardening with him.

I gain ample amount of rest and I feel lighter after talking my heart out. It’s like getting to be yourself without the fear of being judged.

I don’t want to rub it into your face if you can’t go home. I really empathize with you if your home is far and you are not able to go there but what I don’t get is why those friends of mine, whose home is just as close as me, don’t go home every weekend.

They say that’s because they are stronger than me.

Well, being always up for a challenge.

I stayed there over a weekend and not just one weekend I stayed there for a grand total of 3 weekends.

The first time I stayed over was during my first semester and I was miserable. I fell sick and my parents had to come visit me on Sunday. To say I was embarrassed would be an understatement. I was mortified and, on that day, I decided to go back home each weekend.

Then came the next semester and after spending entire winter break at home I felt brave enough to try spending my first weekend of this semester over campus. I got really bored that time. I mean there was just nothing to do. I know I do nothing when I come home too yet coming home in itself becomes an event.

So, yeah after another fail, I felt my decision to go home each weekend was justified.

 

That’s until my society’s event came up. I worked hard with the entire team to prepare for this event so obviously I was going to stay over the weekend to enjoy the event. And I had the best time of my life. It was amazing to be a part of such a fabulous event and my weekend passed away in a blur.

I didn’t even feel a pinch of homesickness.

Okay so, now I have modified my terms and conditions. If there is going to be something fun, I will stay over the weekend else you know I am homebound.

 

It’s not like I am homebound for long only a little time remaining before destiny takes me who knows where. Eventually I will have to grow up and leave my peter pan’s fantasies aside. And I might even get the hang of being away from home, maybe I will find a new place to call home and then coming back to my parents would not be that easy.

Sometimes, I feel a pinch of guilt when I see how my parents spend time with their parents. They are not that far from their parents and take out time to meet them and take care of them but what about me? I am coming home right now for my own selfish motives but in the future will I continue to be homebound or will it be a burden?

Will I respect and love my parents?

Will I be able to take care of them?

Of course, when I get these overwhelming thoughts, I had to share them with my parents and they assured me they won’t get that old and not over-clingy as they age. I really hope they don’t because topics like abandonment of old parents really mess with my brain.

It’s like as you grow up you start to realize all the things your parents did for you and how much in debt you are. No amount of money can pay off my debts to my parents.

I mean at this point many of you would have stopped reading but my mother would have read past it thrice and commented each time how this article was. Even my father who is not much of a reader would read my article even it takes him 2-3 sittings to finish it.

 

Growing up is weird.

As a kid you believed Santa got you presents but now you know who Santa is and how much does each present cost.

I really don’t know what the future holds for me or how my future-self will behave towards my parents. I hope she remembers the feelings I have now.

Until then, each week, I will rush home to make most of the hours because it’s the present where we can make memories.

I guess being homebound is not that bad, even my friends agree when I bring them home cooked goodies.

Okay I may be bribing them to side with me, but then as I said every Friday I feel this unexplainable pull and I just know I am HOMEBOUND.