It’s all about that feeling you get. After rushing up the stairs, bags in both hands, you stop at the doorway and just stare. Standing over your bed, you slowly let out that faint sigh. It’s the feeling of home.
Cherry Hill, N.J., isn’t that exciting. Sometimes, I even dread coming home to a town that’s probably more boring than Evanston. But I still look forward to hanging out with the friends I made in middle school — a bunch of band and orchestra geeks that never stopped loving musicals and the board game Taboo.
Well, it’s not like there’s much else to Cherry Hill. Basically, you have three options on a Saturday night: a coffee shop, Barnes & Noble or bowling.
Fortunately, this break had a few surprises — those moments that make me miss home today. Here’s a little log of some of the highlights.
Dec. 21: My stomach churned as I drove to the Cherry Hill Mall. I like shopping; it’s the high school reunion part that I hate. I think I saw Becky Something Something at the Gap. It’s the same every time: I run into someone that I didn’t really know too well in high school, pretend to be ecstatic to see them, sum up the past three years of my life with the phrase “same old, same old,” and then say I’ll see them soon, even though I probably won’t.
Dec. 25: I guess I have a Martha Stewart vision of Christmas. I always envision running downstairs and seeing a Christmas tree overflowing with enormous presents and carols scratching on an old record player. But every year the Limjoco household opens the presents on Christmas Eve — too impatient to wait a few hours.
This year we gathered around the television to watch old home movies. But when these films from the ’70s and ’80s were transferred to video, this horrible flute music was inserted into the background. It was quite disturbing to watch the film of my grandfather’s funeral set to whimsical fairy music. For some reason the sad death music came on only when the film got to my childhood. It seemed like bathing baby Victor would grow up to be the Antichrist.
Dec. 31: Every year one of my friends has a party. With my group of friends basically all you need for a party is a board game and soda. For some reason, the party started to die, so a few people decided to wrestle. Even though I wanted them to rip off their clothes and wrestle naked, the party didn’t turn dirty. To my disappointment, my friends didn’t listen to my suggestions for naked Twister, either.
So if you ask, yes, I had a wonderful vacation. Everything in moderation, of course. I slept until 1 p.m. every day and probably watched more than 100 hours of Comedy Central. But three weeks of home is about enough. If you ask me, though, it could’ve used more naked wrestling.
