Eight Days In…

It was a cool day in September, eight days after the beginning of college and I was homesick.

California was a whole new adventure and I wasn’t sorry to be attending school at USC. It was as far away from home as I could be and I’d wanted that. Not that home was a bad place, but seriously, if you’re gonna leave, why not go far enough away that Mom and Dad can’t pop by on a weekend?

Eight days in and I no longer wandered around, half lost, trying to find the next building, the next classroom. My roommate and I were getting along okay but I missed my best friend from back home. The leaves would soon be turning colors back in Maine and I wondered what Mom was fixing for supper.

As I opened the door of my room, I was close to tears. Not unhappy so much as just missing home; wishing my Dad was in his workshop, next to the house, and I could pop in for a hug and a “How was your day sweetheart?”

I walked in to my room and promptly burst into tears. There on the desk next to my laptop and textbooks was the most beautiful bouquet of multi-colored roses I’d ever seen. I knew, right away, my Dad had sent them.

Take a moment, to remember that time you burst into tears over roses.