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OUT OF THIS STATE: My First Year at College
By Megan Brancaccio

College was never something my parents and I thoroughly discussed. Whenever college was the topic of conversation, though, it was always assumed that I would attend our in-state school. The school was not only close to home, it was my parents’ alma mater and the place where they first met. Obviously, they wanted their oldest child (moi) to follow in their footsteps, and for a long time I, too, envisioned myself staying in-state. 

However, much to the dismay of my father (who still attends every home football game) I did not want to stay at home for college by the start of my senior year. I needed something refreshingly new, something totally different. I wanted to go to school far from home, in a new environment that held endless possibilities.

 By the end of April, I had found a University that met and exceeded all of my expectations. 

Throughout my whole life, my family has supported every decision I have ever made, and going to college out-of-state was no exception. Both of my parents knew that I felt confident about my “foreign” college choice, and that there was no use trying to bribe me to stay in-state. I’ll admit that I did feel a little guilty. My school was an eight-hour drive away, and it seemed as if I was abandoning my family for the sake of my own ambitions.

For the next five months we made the appropriate preparations and my dad would let an exasperated, “Megan is leaving because she doesn’t love us,” slip every once in a while. I could tell he was joking, but I knew that he, my mom, and my younger brother really were sad I wasn’t going to be around much anymore.

As the time flew by, I became more and more uneasy about leaving the only state I could ever remember being my home, and before I knew it, August was coming to a close. It was the end of Opening Weekend. After hugging my mom, dad, and brother, I watched as their silver minivan pulled away, leaving me in my new living quarters. 

I suddenly felt overwhelmed. The longest time I had ever spent away from home was two weeks. I had absolutely no experience living on my own. I was used to brown-bag lunches, a midnight curfew, and my own space. I didn’t even know how to do laundry (what does “perm press” mean anyway?!). 

Besides my one best friend, who happened to come to school with me, I knew absolutely no one within 300 miles. I was completely on my own. It was the kind of freedom I had yearned for, yet a wave of homesickness crashed over me. 

For the first few weeks I called home every night. Hearing my parents’ voices made their absence even more apparent, and sometimes I couldn’t fight back the tears. It always hit a few heartstrings when they mentioned, “The house feels so empty without you here.” Time began to fly by, though, and I became engrossed with homework, work study, and social events. 

When October rolled around, my parents were already on their way up north to visit me for Parents’ Weekend. I had almost forgotten what they looked like… almost. Seeing their faces for the first time in two months, and sharing tight embraces was such a relief. 

An entire weekend dedicated to parent-child bonding was exactly what the doctor ordered. We were able to connect on a new level and all of their inquiries weren’t a nuisance. I wanted to tell them everything; I wanted them completely involved in my new life. They seemed so relieved to know that I was meeting new friends and truly enjoying myself.

When we said our good-byes at the end of the weekend, it was not as difficult as it had been in August. I had a feeling that time would fly and I would see them again in a month for Thanksgiving, which came and went. Staying in my house for a week was incredible. Having my parents around to wish me “good morning” was so comforting, not to mention all of those delicious meals. I even sacrificed nights with my friends just to stay in my house (a true rarity). 

Unfortunately, though, vacation came to an end and my dad drove me back to my “second residence” at school, where I would remain for another month before returning home again for winter recess.

Choosing to go away to college was one of the best decisions I have ever made, and I’m so thankful that my parents were able to let me “leave the nest” to explore a world outside of my comfort zone. I think that it is important for an 18 year old to broaden his or her horizons. Likewise, I think it is equally important for a parent to know that letting a child go away is far different than letting a child go.

Megan Brancaccio is an English major at the University of Vermont and a member of the school newspaper, the “Vermont Cynic.” She also freelances for various publications. Comments are welcome at meganbranca@yahoo.com.