Like most parents, my mum was upset about me leaving for university. She had never been too keen on the idea, worried about her youngest 'baby' flying the nest. "You'll always be my baby, no matter how old you are," is what she always said when I would rebuff the name and then she'd pull me in for a hug.
Of course, the day for me to leave eventually came around, and my mum was very emotional. I got the lecture on how to stay safe, how often I should text and call, and to try not to burn the flat down (my cooking skills are not that bad, honestly) and then we parted with a final hug, my mums face awash with tears.
Though this day was a bad one for my mum, it was a great one for me. I was finally living alone, and I felt like I was a real functional adult, doing the cooking, cleaning and the laundry, all boring tasks, but they made me feel productive and successful.
Then reality struck when classes came along. Oh right...I actually have to study.
Before coming to De Montfort University, I had taken a gap year to relax and think about my future, but in taking this gap year it meant my first year began in the middle of a pandemic (really regretting that year long relaxing break right about now).
There was a strong attempt at the start of the year, I was attending a few classes in person, albeit I had no idea what most of my classmates looked like because of the masks, but it felt semi-normal.
Weeks go by, more and more people get covid, and by the end of the first semester, all of my classes are online, and then I'm going home early for Christmas, something my mum was ecstatic about.
The thing about going home is that I become lazy. My responsibilities are lessened, I cook less, I clean less, so much so that I become more sloth than human, even doing lectures and readings and joining online calls took more effort. So going back to classes and to my accommodation after Christmas was something I was clinging onto desperately.
But the pandemic only got worse, and the dates for going back to classes was being pushed back again and again, so for the rest of the year, all classes were online.
Every time I told my mum about not being able to be back on campus, her smile grew bigger and bigger, her mood uplifted. I could’ve gone back to the accommodation, but it seemed pointless to me if I couldn’t go to class, and I ended up saving money by being home anyway.
So, my mum was happy that she had her ‘baby’ back for the rest of the year and I didn’t even get to fly the nest really, I was only gone for a couple of months.
I missed out on what would’ve been an eventful first year, I missed out on summer in Leicester, and I missed out on socialising, but there’s always second year.
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