Up until June, my mother always prepared my food. The cupboards in our kitchen were scarcely empty and you could count on the dishwasher being full because of it. We were just a hungry family. Trips to the grocery store were frequent and even for a family of three, we ate a lot. We were able to.
Food was never something that crossed my mind, certainly not something I worried about.
And then I began summer classes. While the university paid for 50 meal swipes and granted the students participating in the program some hundred dollars to pay for things around campus, I never realized how hard it would be to fend for myself as an avid snacker.
I know, this sounds like a non-probem. Attending one of the nation's most expensive private schools and complaining about the lack of food are not two things that should coexist. But over the summer I've found my stomach growling more often than when I was at home. It's not as easy for me to run downstairs and grab a bar of chocolate.
Stores close early. Over the summer, the Starbucks shuts off its lights at 2pm sharp. The Subway follows suit and before my eyes, the buildings are pitch black with the exception of the menu, somehow illuminated by a strange Godly light. Probably because God is laughing at me, but I try not to think about that.
While I'm fortunate enough to attend such an accommodating university that caters to most of my needs, I miss home cooked meals. I miss having my parents prepare food for me, without even having to think about all the preparation involved. It's not like I'm hunting my own game, but it's not easy out here.
I will definitely look forward to my first night back in San Diego where my parents will either suggest we go out, or have a home cooked meal ready for me. Either way, anything that isn't from the dining hall or a vending machine will be a nice reminder that I will always have a home (and kitchen) to return to.