So the first week of classes at our school has ended.

I wonder how many of the first year kids are experiencing homesickness.

A lot more of them than I imagine, probably. I should make an effort to be especially gentle in my interactions.

Probably won’t, knowing me.

Even I experienced homesickness, my freshman year at college. That’s amazing, when I think of it. My home was purgatory. College—even a small conservative college with a lot of rules—was the most delicious freedom (both freedom of movement and freedom from fear) that I’d ever experienced.

Nevertheless I’d lived in one house all my life up till then. The longest I’d spent away from home had been a few week-long vacations. The separation was like a genuine wound, and it took a little healing.

How oddly we are made, we human beings.

College was really the best time of my life. I got involved with a musical group, five guys (sometimes more) with whom I could talk about anything, whose loyalty and friendship wasn’t in question. They valued my gifts and accepted me for who I was.

And yet today, I almost never think about those years. I think a lot about my childhood, which was awful, but I don’t think about the good years that followed.

I think I know why, but I won’t bore you with the reasons.

Have a good weekend. If you’re a college freshman, trust me. You’ll get over it.

And if you’re a student at our school, you’ll also get over your cold.

The one I caught.