This Tuesday will be my first time going back to my hometown since I came to college, and I’ve been anticipating this with an odd kind of dread.

It’s been more than three months since I moved in. Three months since I left my Pennsylvania hometown of nearly 8,000 people. Three months that I haven’t done the Sunday crossword with my parents. Three months away from my cat Poppy, who will probably spend most of the weekend under the couch because she doesn’t recognize me.

Sometimes I don’t recognize me. The person who sleeps in my bed at home will not be the same one who arose from it in August. The person who looks in my sticker-encrusted mirror will be a little older, a little wiser, a little more confident in who she is. I measure how much I have changed by how I talk to people back in my placid town, and I find myself thinking that three months is a deceptively long time.

I like the person I have become. I like that I wander around at 2 a.m. and climb trees and read Arabic poetry and wrap my hands around a hot cup of coffee when walking to class in the morning. I like that I stargaze and shoot the moon at Hearts and sing off-key and jump fences and laugh until I’m out of breath. I have been shaped by my college — and, more importantly, by my friends — into someone of whom I am proud.

This is not to say that I am not proud of the person who I was. Three months ago, I was someone who knew her way around a hardware store and who took long walks by the creek. Three months before, I was a high school senior who had just committed to the College of William and Mary. And, three months before that, I was a clarinetist who donated eight inches of hair and stood on her feet for twelve hours. I am proud of who I was, but prouder of who I have become.

Going home does not mean reverting back to that younger version of me. I refuse to let that happen. These four days spent back in my hometown — and the month that I will spend over winter break — are a time to reconnect with my friends and family. I’ll coax my cat out from underneath the couch, do the crossword with my parents, tell my friends of my adventures — and then I’ll come back here, to college. Back home.