When I first got my acceptance letter from AU, I cried my eyes out.
No, these weren't tears of joy, or even of excited yet nervous stress. These were there-is-no-way-I-am-going-there-you-can't-make-me tears.
There were several reasons why I did not want to come here initially. I had my heart set on a school in Connecticut. A boyfriend, who was going to a college close to home, played a small factor. But I also had not considered D.C. as a future home for me.
Four years later, it's my sister who is going to school in Connecticut this fall. That boyfriend is a relic of the past and D.C. has become home - well, sort of. So, where is home for me now that I am moving away from the greater Tenleytown area? Since when did I grow up? These are the existential questions every graduating senior - and even some introspective underclassmen - is asking himself on some level.
In my case, I've come light years from a small, Catholic, all-girls' high school in suburban Pennsylvania (yes, I wore a uniform; no, I won't wear it for you). Born and raised in the Philadelphia area my whole life, I still carry Philly with me wherever I go. Cheesesteaks are delicious with a quasi-real liquid cheese spread on them, and the correct pronunciation of "water" is still "wooder."
However, there was something about where I grew up that just could not keep me there. I was bitten by the travel bug at the tender age of 5 and, unfortunately, was unable to fulfill my dreams of wanderlust until I was 20 and studied abroad in the Paris enclave after I chose AU.
While watching "Where in the World is Carmen Sandiego?" on PBS sufficed for a time, it was living in Paris for four months that finally satiated my need to travel anywhere that wasn't the greater 48 states. Who wouldn't want to live down the street from a café that served the best espresso in the world and all the pastries one could ask for?
It took some adjustments, but after a month, I felt like I had made myself a home in Paris. I lived with a host family similar to the makeup of my own (mom, dad, three kids who were overly involved in extracurriculars), which made my transition much easier. Language barriers aside, I felt at ease and comfortable in Paris' 20th arrondissement.
When I came home last June, though, home was a fuzzy concept. By that point, I had already lived in D.C. for a summer in addition to the five semesters I had spent studying there. Trips to Philly consisted mostly of weekend jaunts to prove to my mother that I was still alive. Within 10 days of touching down on American soil, I was back in D.C. interning and working for The Eagle. I didn't have a home anymore.
My experience is unique to me, but I don't think it is that different from those of other seniors. A lot of us left our hometowns with strong ties to friends and family, many of us went abroad and I am sure there are plenty of us who still do not know where home is right now.
I have encountered several AU students who say they have absolutely no ties to their hometowns anymore besides the occasional return home for holidays or long weekends. Others cannot wait to go back home, even though they will leave their friends of the last four years behind.
Thinking about where home is after four years is not exactly the conversation starter for seniors when they are out in Adams Morgan on a Friday night. But even with all the finals that have yet to be taken and the graduation weekend plans left to be made, the question of where home is, is still on the minds of those of us going out into the real world in 13 days. Some of us know, some of us don't. But as with anything else in life, we will figure it out.
And there is always that one thing to help us seniors procrastinate acknowledging any grown-up conundrum - grad school.
Lauren Gardner is a senior in the School of Communication and the School of International Service and the outgoing editor in chief of The Eagle.
