When I applied to college, I was determined to leave New York City. I always loved my home, friends, and family, but the stress of high school was exhausting– the cutthroat and demanding academic environment, the pressure from my parents to do well – I wanted to go somewhere new, exciting, different. And so the majority of the schools I applied to were out of state, as far as California, and I was excited to get away and experience a new freedom and way of life.

As a New York City kid, any stress or responsibility within the walls of my Upper West Side apartment could be easily escaped by taking ten steps outside. I have always loved living in New York City. Walking down the streets, I am one with the hustle and bustle, just as I am with the 7 AM period of quiet that quickly becomes energized with the chatter of children going to school, dragged by their parents clad in suits, dress shoes clacking on the pavement, or workout clothes thrown on, a dog or younger child in the other hand, vibrant and alive by the time the clock strikes 8. I am truly at peace with the blaring of car horns, with angry pedestrians fighting over taxis, flamboyantly dressed people dancing across the crosswalk, and drunk people staggering down the streets at midday, spewing opinions about the government, or Jesus, or the person in closest proximity to them. I am one with the protests and movements for social justice, the playgrounds of Riverside Park, at some point substituted for its softball fields, that I have grown up on, and the talented musicians singing and playing instruments in subway stations. But because I have never known anything else, life in the greatest city on earth seems normal to me.

My move to Ann Arbor, however, has shown me how truly special New York City is. Although Ann Arbor is technically a “city,” it doesn’t seem it to me. Ann Arbor has basically anything and everything you could want, and I couldn’t imagine a better place to go to college in. There are more coffee shops than I can count, and every day I hear about another restaurant I should eat at, or show that I should see, or store that I should go to. It fosters independence and encourages culture and involvement. In Ann Arbor, I almost feel like an adult – I’m not completely taken care of by the University, what my parents are paying for me to get – and I have the liberty to explore new places and make decisions for myself. But coming from the city that never sleeps, it’s been an adjustment to walk down South State Street at 11 PM past closed restaurants and stores, when I’m used to walking a few blocks and grabbing a slice of pizza at any time, day or night. Ann Arbor definitely sleeps.

Needless to say, I was extremely excited to go home for Thanksgiving, even though I knew the four-day break would be far too brief. Flying over Manhattan, my face pressed against the window staring in awe at the collection of bright lights, steel, and glass that is lower Manhattan, like a small doll city, the green rectangle of Central Park and to the left, my home, the Upper West Side, I felt a warmth spread through my body as I realized I was home. But I also felt the odd sensation that, for just a minute, I was a tourist or an immigrant or just someone else, seeing for the first time the shimmering New York City, in all its lit up and skyscraping glory.

From the moment I got off the plane and stepped into LaGuardia airport – which is probably the worst first impression of New York that one could possibly get – I felt the constraints of time pressing on me. My family, my friends, my city: they were all finally within reach, but impossible to fit into the short span of four days.

My return to the bright, glowing, and ever-alive New York City showed me how truly unique it is – something that I have always known, but didn’t always consciously appreciate. After three months of rarely venturing more than a mile beyond of my residence hall on Central Campus, I reveled in my train ride to Brooklyn with my mom and sister, standing in the middle of a crowded car as my mom mouthed to me that it smelled like salami, and in my walk up Columbus Avenue from the dentist, instead of speeding up my walk to shorten it, I savored every moment, taking in the sights and people around me.

I love Ann Arbor, but my time at home also made me realize how lucky I am, and as I sat in my Uber to the airport on Sunday at 5 AM, alarmed at the speed of time and grim with the prospect of the hard work and stress of finals looming closely on the horizon, I couldn’t help but feel so immensely grateful for all I have to return to each break.

For me, home is my loud and crazy household, filled with the love, support, and laughter of my exuberant family, and it is also my equally as ebullient city, teeming with unique, diverse, dynamic individuals, all tossed together into the melting pot that is New York City and united as a people. And as I spend the next few weeks in Ann Arbor, setting my morning alarms as Christmas songs each day in anticipation of the upcoming holidays (I’ve been doing this for about a month now – I am probably the biggest nonreligious December fanatic that you’ll ever meet) and Facetiming my parents over and over as I choose my classes for my second semester of college, studying for the finals and writing the papers whose deadlines are slowly creeping up on me, I can think of my unparalleled, one-of-a-kind home, and how profoundly lucky I am to call it mine.