Letters Between Sundays

You’d think I wouldn’t be homesick, knowing how my family is. But I guess once you get older, you see everything differently. You stop looking at the world through childlike glasses and start seeing it through adult lenses. Suddenly, you appreciate your mom, you actually want to hang out with your brother, and you find yourself wanting to help close relatives instead of hiding from them. Growing up is weird like that. Sometimes I wish I could go back to being five again—playing dress up, hosting tea parties with my Nana, and having no idea what was waiting ahead. Can you be homesick for a specific time in your life? I think I am.

My mom and I didn’t have the greatest relationship growing up. Honestly, from ages thirteen to nineteen, we barely liked each other. I was defiant—sneaking around, lying, stealing cigarettes, even experimenting with drugs. Behind closed doors, it was chaos. Yet, in public, I was “Perfect Paris.” At home, though? It was daily fights, screaming matches, and my mom constantly invading my privacy (which, looking back, I get now—I was sneaky when it came to boys). Our relationship was toxic, suffocating, and controlling. We loved each other, sure, but we didn’t like each other. We were glued to the hip in all the worst ways—imagine a dysfunctional duo that probably belonged on Dr. Phil. That was us.

College, in an odd way, saved us. We needed that space. More importantly, when I gave my life to God and put Him above everything—including my mom—things shifted. I started treating her with the love and respect God calls us to show others, and slowly, our relationship began to heal. It wasn’t easy learning to put God before my mom, but it created something beautiful between us.

Funny enough, a TV show has also shaped how I see her now. I started watching Gilmore Girls and didn’t think I’d like it—but here I am, already on season five in a month. The mother-daughter bond between Lorelai and Rory hit me hard. They’re best friends, telling each other everything. Watching them made me gentler, more compassionate, and more grateful for my mom. It showed me what our relationship could look like when love, respect, and friendship come first.

And here’s what I’ve realized: I’m the velcro kid. I used to think it was my brother, but no—it’s me. I call my mom ten to twenty times a day, I always want to go home (and usually do), everything makes me think of her, and I’d rather hang out with her than most of my friends. Nothing against my friends, but my mom is my best friend. Sometimes I even wonder about my future—getting married, moving away—and in every version of my life, my mom is still right there. And honestly? I’m okay with that.

Because homesickness isn’t about missing a place. It’s about missing people. I miss my mom and my little sister Abijoy. I miss my childhood bond with my brother. I miss coming home from school and telling my mom every detail of my day, Nana living next door and letting me spend the night at her house, family game nights where we’d play euchre until 2 a.m., yelling and laughing the whole time. I miss my mom doing my hair and picking out my clothes. I’m homesick for my childhood.

Mom and I have been through a lot together. But if we never walked through the hard times, we wouldn’t appreciate the good ones. I’m okay with being homesick. I’m okay with not being a “true adult” yet and still wanting my mom. I’m a proud Mama’s Girl.