College Dorm

With an eye barely open,

and my hair barely combed,

I open the fridge to an abundance of

empty space.

It wasn't like the fridge back at home,

with the shelves packed enough to make even the eyes full.

The kitchen stove had an open pot of yesterday's packaged ramen,

and the sink was filled with dirty dishes my roommate swore to wash two days ago.

I grab a slice of bread,

which was only the end of the loaf.

But it was still good enough.

Back at home,

Mom would add scrambled eggs on top of that toast.

Though, the digits in my bank symbolized a disagreement to buy anything,

while my stomach compromised to another day of vacancy.

✦✧✦✧

As I ate breakfast alone in the kitchen,

there was this unsettling sound

of silence.

Moving into a dorm was enough to avoid the nagging,

and the chores

and the annoying younger siblings.

However,

I do wish on going back to waking up to the smell of fresh, homemade meals;

special recipes I wish I had learned,

though I couldn't ever replicate as much as I have tried.

I began missing those sick days with a bowl of your favorite hot soup in bed.

And as annoying as the back and forth temperature checking became,

it was the assurance that someone was there

to take care of you.

I even started to miss the stupid little fights with my siblings,

knowing that it would eventually lead to a parade of laughter.

Like those loud nights of staying up

while attempting to not disturb our parents.

I no longer have the peacefulness of neighborhood children playing outside my window,

but rather the smoky city streets buzzing with vehicles and flashing lights.

I can't enjoy the warm cinnamon cookie aroma of Christmas,

with red, blue, white, green colors on a tree.

And childish excitement for overflowing presents.

✦✧✦✧

Of course, I had only realized

that besides this dull college dorm,

no other place could ever compare to the feeling

back at home.