The first time I packed up my life and drove away from my home was at the age of 14, the first year I went off to boarding school. I remember that day clearly in my mind, looking back at my family's home out of the back window of my parents car, my bike seat blocking the view of the tree in the front yard. I was so incredibly excited at that moment to be starting a new life, one that would hopefully help me find my path in life and get me where I needed to be. I can say truthfully that it did, and that I wouldn't be sitting here surrounded by medical text books and frantically scribbled notes about the heart. I don't know where I would be.
The three years I spent at boarding school were incredible, and I look back with almost all fond memories. But I can't say there weren't days that I didn't miss home, my family, my town or the mountains. There were plenty of those days, but as each month, term and year rolled on, I had less and less days of longing for home. I started to feel like my school was my home, and that my friends and teachers were my family.
I also recall that during my first year of University there were intense days of longing to go home, mostly during the first semester of school when I was fighting to save my leg from amputation. Over the last two years of my undergrad, I could have gone home every weekend, but in total over two years I spent 4 weeks at home. I chose not to, I loved where I was living, what I was doing and my friends. I had no reason to go home really.
But since starting medical school, I don't think I have ever had so many days where from the core of my being I just want to go home. Sometimes I miss home, my family and the mountains so much that it almost hurts. Maybe it is because I have been sick since returning from Tanzania that I want to go home so badly. Maybe it is because I don't see myself sticking around this city after I graduate. I don't know what it is, all I know, is that I want to go home.
18 days and one exam to go.
The three years I spent at boarding school were incredible, and I look back with almost all fond memories. But I can't say there weren't days that I didn't miss home, my family, my town or the mountains. There were plenty of those days, but as each month, term and year rolled on, I had less and less days of longing for home. I started to feel like my school was my home, and that my friends and teachers were my family.
I also recall that during my first year of University there were intense days of longing to go home, mostly during the first semester of school when I was fighting to save my leg from amputation. Over the last two years of my undergrad, I could have gone home every weekend, but in total over two years I spent 4 weeks at home. I chose not to, I loved where I was living, what I was doing and my friends. I had no reason to go home really.
But since starting medical school, I don't think I have ever had so many days where from the core of my being I just want to go home. Sometimes I miss home, my family and the mountains so much that it almost hurts. Maybe it is because I have been sick since returning from Tanzania that I want to go home so badly. Maybe it is because I don't see myself sticking around this city after I graduate. I don't know what it is, all I know, is that I want to go home.
18 days and one exam to go.
