I seem to have forgotten how to talk with my mom. Back in my hometown, I always followed her to tell her about my day; what happened at school, how I did on the test, how annoyed I was with this one girl with a funny pigtail. She folded the laundry while casually giving advice. My mouth full with the tea she made, I talked and talked — she warned me, of course, that the tea was hot, but it was always too late. With my tongue burned and my incessant chatting, I followed her. 

Every corner of my home, I followed her. 

Two years have passed, and my following has gotten quieter. My phone calls have gone from five times a day to three times a week. Some days, I forget to call her and wake up with four missed calls flashing at my eyes. I worried in the beginning to call her back immediately, but now I sigh and go back to sleep. I have forgotten to hurry.

As international students, we all share a different background and story. I carried my determination, dreams and hope, but along the way, I may have lost some. I still carry them while I pick something else. Back at home, it was okay if I forgot something. I still had my mom by my side to remind me. I was reminded to be humble, patient, grateful; it was easy to be in touch with reality. Away from home and on my own now, reminders of those values have faded. 

I believe this is not the case for only international students, but students entering a new life in university, away from home. Everything becomes easy to forget when there is everything to be remembered by ourselves. From watching Friday night shows in the living room to sitting alone watching a series on Netflix or passing vegetables on the dinner table to microwaving two-day-old pizza, it has become a chore to just connect. The small talk has gotten even smaller to the point where hearing a laugh is a personal joy. 

However, my mom still talks. She still folds her laundry with her speaker on the phone, occasionally shouting since I can’t hear her over the noise. In a way, I still follow every corner of my home while she carries her phone with her. No matter if the conversation dies, she always finds a way to pick it up.

Along with all this forgetting, I also seem to have forgotten that it is okay to have bad days. It is only human to experience and feel. Some days we break, but the beauty of it is we can recover. We can mend and keep on going, and we can always find a way to get home.

I am starting to realize that our adulthood is already starting, and without knowing about it, we are carrying ourselves beautifully. It is only natural to miss home when I am a thousand miles away, and I cherish the love and warmth of my family that I hold every time I do my next important step.

This is a reminder that we cannot leave home at home; we carry it with us. We still carry a dream to do something while we have our family in our phones and laptops, as well as our hearts. Some days it seems impossible to go to class or complete assignments on top of assignments, but we don’t need to carry our stress alone. Happiness is shared, and so are bad days. Our loved ones are always there, no matter the challenges we face. 

I plan on calling my mom tonight, and I am looking forward to being transported back home while we talk. She might be in her room again, folding clothes or in the kitchen making rotis, and I will be patiently listening to her speak as she continues to give me all the love she secretly sends me while I’m so far away.

Edited by Jeremy Ford and Morgan Albrecht