Tonight is My Last Night at Home

Tonight is my last night at home.
Last year I remember I was ecstatic to get back to school. But last year, you know, I was a freshman. Freshmen have adventures. They only study on Sunday nights. They spend all of Winter Break pressing young noses against windowpanes and waiting waiting to go back to school.
Sophomores are ghastly; they walk around with hollow eyes, gaping mouths can't believe their sudden workload. Sophomores crash over Winter Break. They may work a job at Target that they love, but otherwise they pretty much watch movies and read. They avoid thinking about school, and certainly don't miss it. School for sophomores means studying, which isn't really something to be missed (not really, that is).

So tonight (which is my last night at home) I pack reluctantly.
I look at the couch, thinking "that was my last time crashing on you"
I look at the dogs, thinking "that was my last time chasing you around the yard pelting you with snowballs which you stupidly tried to eat" (please understand: this is actually more of a funny activity than a cruel one. Try it sometime.)
I look at my bed, thinking: "this is the last time I'll lay on you, smothered with blankets, reading until 4 a.m."
I even said goodbye to Target today, wandering its aisles like a not-so-subtle shoplifter.

I know I'll be happy to get back to Morris once I get there.
But for now, I'm enjoying one last night at home.
Because tonight (as you may know) is my last night at home.