A Tale of Two Cities

| August 5, 2013 | 2 Comments

 It’s nice to be home. I walk down the hall without shoes and shower without flip-flops. I sing in my car, have little use for headphones, and maintain complete control of the lights in my room. It’s nice to be alone. I missed this. I blend all the smoothies my heart desires and smile at my dog, always my puppy, in the yard of my childhood home. Over there I scored a goal against my brother. Right there is where I hit a baseball over the fence.

This is the past. I fill another bag for the thrift shop and gaze to the shelves at my boxed up memories. I, and many who I know, have moved past what were once fantastic friendships. This is an old life, it isn’t mine anymore. My high school job, to which I have returned for the summer, has a roster full of new employees. A lot can change in a year.

My mom makes homemade cookies and we watch movies. It’s nice to be home. I am able to be alone with my thoughts, to have time to myself, to not feel so crowded by people. It’s nice to be alone. I missed this, my dad and his corny jokes, the way he calls me “Kenzo”, a hallway lined with memories immortalized in photographs.

This is the present. I lose time to Student Link and planning for the year ahead of me. Silly Snapchats sent across the country, wall posts, Facetimes and “I miss you’s”. A smile to the memories; a grin for the plans. This is a new life, it is mine. I try to capture the beauty of the past year in a conversation to my best friend. It’s hard to summarize a year that meant the world to me. A lot can change in a year.

It’s nice to be home.
Where is home?

I love the view of the mountains outside my window. 

                                                                                                                          I miss the glow of the CITGO sign.

         My homemade smoothies and wraps satisfy a craving.

                                                                                    A pit in my stomach roars for Cane’s and Regina’s.

                   It’s nice to sleep in. It’s nice to relax.

                                                                            I miss learning. I like being busy.

                                                                                                         The stars shine so bright, the streets lie so quiet.

      I miss the light of the Pru and the late night announcer on the Green Line.


Colorado, I love you; Boston, I need you.                                 It’s nice to be home. Wherever that is.

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Category: Boston, Campus Culture, featured

Mackenzie Morgan

About the Author ()

Even though she's not sure how it happened, Mackenzie is a senior. She is also a cake connoisseur, self-declared hobby architect, and co-Editor-in-Chief of Culture Shock. She hails from a small snow globe of a town deep in the mountains of Colorado and is ridiculously proud of the fact that she's half Australian. She's working towards molding young minds as she studies History Education and American Studies with a minor in Political Science, but she would also like to be a princess (or maybe a lawyer). Her weaknesses and greatest enemies include mornings, ketchup, and mascots. Mostly Mackenzie likes to tweet about sandwiches (@Kenz_LM), eat soup, look at the moon, and work towards being Hermione Granger.

Comments (2)

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  1. Tino Bratbo says:

    Just wait till after college. Your roster of “homes” gets longer and longer as you get older, and continue moving and exploring new places. It’s wonderful, but nostalgic; heart-warming, but gut-wrenching. In the end, “home” becomes more of an abstract. To me, home will always be where my mom is.

  2. Andrew Lacqua Andrew Lacqua says:

    I feel like every college student in the world goes through all of this, I know I am right now haha Spot on Mackenzie!

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