The dining table was overflowing on the Tuesday evening — sliced century eggs placed in a flower shape, crisp-skinned Peking duck, steaming vegetables in pork broth: These dishes were full of the taste and smell of home. My grandmother ladled out bowls of hot fish soup, reminding everyone that in Chinese, “yú” (fish) sounds like “abundance.” We displayed the Lunar New Year Gala on TV in the background with (less funny than usual) skits that we half-listened to while passing around plates of dried tofu snacks and pastries. It was a warm familiarity I had missed. For one night, it felt like I had never left for college.
Flashback to Tuesday afternoon, after my last class, I grabbed my packed bags and rushed to the train station, barely making my metro connection in time. The next morning, I was up at 5:30 a.m. to catch the 7 a.m. train back for my 9 a.m. class.
It was a really short trip — barely 12 hours at home. But it was worth it.
Balancing family time and college life has been one of the hardest things I’ve had to navigate. Weekends are the prime time for everything: club meetings, social events, study sessions before midterms. Going home sometimes means missing out on campus life and falling behind on work, with Sunday afternoons or early Mondays spent on transportation. But I still try to go home once a month because it feels amazing to see my mom, siblings and grandparents again: Marilyn always likes to prank me when I’m home, and Austin always shows me a new song or dance he learned in pre-K. I’ve always missed my mom stuffing snacks into my suitcase and my grandparents sliding red packets and medicine pouches in case I get sick. The weekends at home felt way too short, with only a few meals in between.
Some weekends, I feel torn. I want to spend more time with friends since we are often occupied with different schedules during the week. I want to attend those club events that I love. I want to study in an environment that helps with my focus. Sometimes, it feels like I’m straddling two different things — one foot in college, one foot at home — but never fully present in either. I have to choose: Do I go home, or do I stay for a dance practice? Do I spend Saturday night helping my sister with her homework, or do I work an extra shift at my part-time job?
The balance is never perfect, and many times it causes doubt in me. I wonder if I’m missing out on campus experiences. I wonder if my future self would wish I had prioritized differently. I wonder whether my friendships might suffer because of it. I don’t want to be the friend who’s always absent and only shows up when it’s convenient. I wonder if they understand why I choose home as often as I do, if they see it as a reflection of my priorities. Maybe they do. Maybe they don’t. Either way, it’s another weight in the back of my mind.
Then my little brother runs downstairs to the door, shouting “Big Sister!”, and suddenly the stress fades a little. My sister comes over for a sleepover in my room with all her stuffed animals to keep us company. My grandmother teaches me her stretching moves, always telling me to stay active no matter what. In those moments, I don’t second-guess my choice.
I don’t have a perfect answer to this balancing act. Maybe I never will. But I do know that even if it’s just for a night, even if it means an early morning train and a groggy first lecture, I will keep making space for home. Because no matter how much my life expands to other places, how much I grow, home remains the place where I can simply be.
Linda Huang is a freshman from Rockville, Md. majoring in Biomedical Engineering. Her column celebrates growth and emotions that define young adulthood, inviting readers to live authentically.
