By Daniela Morales
[Another introspective essay, this time for a class assignment – a monologue.]
I am in a place right now where I always expected I’d be, but somehow my feelings are so different from what I’d expected I’d feel. Since my sophomore year of high school, when I started traveling more often, I knew I wanted to move away for college. Then I started having fights with my mom and I really knew I wanted to move away for college. Then, I applied to college and, by random chance of the universe, my only option came to be one of the farthest colleges I could possibly attend.
The harder days at home reassure me that moving away is the right decision and the happy, calm moments make me scared for what’s to come. When people ask, the staple answers are always ‘I’m super happy. I can’t wait to start’ but how can I, at only 18 years old, move so far away and live by myself? I would say I am responsible and mature – I do my schoolwork, fulfill my extracurricular activities, work to pay my own bills, and take care of my sister when needed. In college, I will do just about the same. My responsibilities will remain – do my schoolwork, involve myself in extracurricular activities, and work to pay for my own expenses.
The process is pretty straight forward but when I realize that I’m moving away from everyone that I love, to start a life from scratch, to build relationships and stay focused in the present, not those I left behind, I get a little scared. I don’t know if I’m ready to be a part of a completely different atmosphere, climate, culture, to work to fit into a new denomination.
Maybe if plane tickets weren’t so expensive, maybe if I weren’t moving 1,526 miles north of Miami and only 90 miles south of Canada, maybe if I knew that my relationship with my mother wouldn’t suffer, that I wouldn’t miss my boyfriend, and that my sister won’t grow up.
“What is four years of your life? It’s only college.”
Well, it’s missing my sister’s first day of school, seeing her excited after making a new friend or hearing the story of how she pulled a girl’s hair for taking her toy. It’s missing home cooked meals – the few because my mom hates cooking more than anything. It’s missing the hugs, the kisses, the pep talks, the encouragement, the foot massages after working full shifts, the surprise outings, the moments when he makes me feel like the luckiest girl in the world.
When I move I’ll be all alone, just a phone call away from hearing their voices but hundreds of miles away from seeing their faces. I know I’ll have to tough it out. I can’t cave. No matter how much I want to I can’t back out. It’s all for my future. In life everyone has to make sacrifices for a better life and I am just finding out what that’s like.