OK, I admit it — I'm homesick. And I can't really figure out why. Maybe it's because I haven't been home since Christmas, and I'm longing for my own bed and some good cooking. Maybe it's because with these first hints of spring, I'm missing the regular family invasions of fall football weekends. Maybe it's the realization that since I'm going abroad next fall, time with my family is quickly becoming precious.

But whatever the reason, I'm so ready for Easter break that by the time this paper goes to print, I'll already be home.

It's funny because I have no memory of homesickness during freshman year. I was never one to cry myself to sleep in my pillow or call home every day with another mopey complaint. Sure, I sometimes missed the familiarities of home. But I was so excited for college that I never looked back once my packed car turned out of the gravel driveway that August.

And now? As a sophomore, I should be confident in my routines and life at Notre Dame. But now I somehow find myself calling home more often, just wanting to talk and share a few laughs. I'm excited each time my mom e-mails, and I pounce on my brothers every time they sign online. Ironically, I find myself missing them all more as I'm supposed to be growing up and growing away.

I remember what a novelty it was when my older brother and sister would return from college — how we three "littles" used to tear around the house helping my mom get ready and race each other to the door once we heard their voices in the kitchen. Now I've become that novelty, that long-distance sister and daughter returning home, and it feels strange. For as easily as I settle into the rhythms of life back home, the grooves do not fit me as easily as they once did. I have grown and changed so much, that in some ways, sadly, my family might not know me anymore. But that is the wonderful, constant thing about home — the one place I'll always be able to return to and understand completely.

Back in the summer camp days, my mom used to console my fears with the same words: "We're always here. You know what we'll be doing while you're gone. And now it's your time to go out and explore." I took her words to heart and headed out in the big, scary world. But now I'm itching to get back.

It's the little things I can't wait for this weekend — laughing with my mom as we run errands, fighting with my brothers over how I always skip out on the dishes, staying up late to talk literature and life with my dad. So maybe my mom's words are the reason I'm craving home as of late. I want to be sure that it's still the same, even if I'm not.

• Ready to go home