If you’re reading this…
By Will Lieber, 20, Illinois
If you’re reading this, plant some flowers.
As each academic break nears, I begin to excitedly anticipate returning home. I always miss my family, my farm, and my community. Duke is wonderful– it has been more than I ever dreamed, but my home is a part of who I am.
When I return home, I can’t help but let a smile creep onto my face as I open the garage door and watch it slowly reveal my youngest brother, sheepishly waiting to see me. Nothing compares to watching my dog lose his mind in the house upon seeing “his people.” Nowhere else can replace the land and animals I care for with my own two hands. This place is my home.
I always help my Mom with her flowers if she asks, but sometimes I think she asks because she knows I need it. Farming is good for the soul, especially planting flowers with my Mom. We move in a miniature assembly line. She marks the spot, and my shovel follows. She drops in seeds, and I cover them up. We maneuver between long silences and bursts of conversation, at times just listening to the cut of the shovel and the rush of falling dirt. Farming flowers with my Mom reminds me why I love my family and why I love this place. In a few months the flowers will be beautiful, yet the flowers are not why I love flower farming. They are just reminders that I love spending time with my Mom in a place I love to be.
Springfield doesn’t change much whenever I go away, so I tell myself. But my family is growing up, and I’m missing them as they bloom–my brother’s first solo drive, my other brother’s cross country races, and my sister’s art shows. Can the value in these moments ever truly be appraised? Is my education 13 hours away worth what I am missing? I will probably always have a career, or at least an education, but you can’t get back time with people. As life moves on, it feels like sand falling through my fingers. No matter how tight I squeeze, I can’t hold on.
The colorful hues dotting Duke’s gardens remind me of these moments – each petal is a reminder of who I am. Homesickness is hard. I don’t think I will ever stop being homesick after visiting home. Yet homesickness is in some ways like a flower reminding me of my family and the love that brings us together. Though hundreds of miles separate us, I see them everyday in the petals and stems of campus blooming.
My friend runs a mental health organization called If You’re Reading This. The prompt was to write about something mental health oriented, and to begin it with “if you’re reading this.”
