This Rose Cafe was deliberately open-ended, which is probably why I’ve struggled to come up with a subject to write on more than the more topical Rose events. We attendees left the event with a challenge to write about what’s important to us. This began a mental exercise that’s turned into a full-fledged reflection of my life as it is.

I’ve started to question my relationships, which though were supposed to be some of the constants of life. I feel relationships are what draw me to certain places. I wanted to work and learn from the best, and so I came to Cornell in the hope that being an alumnus of the Ivy League will set me apart in my career. But even as I continue this pursuit, I wonder what will be its cost. Like most, I’m too far from home to visit with any regularity, departing from campus only for breaks that last a week or longer. And every time I return to the place I called home, it seems more and more unfamiliar. Everything in my childhood home seems so small and delicate. I’m so used to the doors and faucets of Rose House that I accidentally slammed the doors at home shut with a careless push and broke a faucet knob at home with a careless twist. I feel like an intruder too: my dad and mom and younger brother go out of their ways to make me feel “at home” during my brief visits. What it seems I’m doing is interrupting their way of life. Perhaps the truth is that they’ve grown used to their family of three with my sister and me off at college. Perhaps that’s just the way of life.

I’m sure at this point that I’ll be spending the summer away from home, so there won’t be a period of three months like there was after freshman year to allay my fears. Fortunately, the approaching spring break provides an opportunity to discuss this issue vis-à-vis and abandon this fatalistic outlook on life.