In my own defense, I am only moving back until late September, when I start classes at Northwestern. I will continue work for Georgetown’s Berkley Center for Religion, Peace and World Affairs from my home. The next few months, I tell myself, is a brief respite before I enter the “Real-er World” of graduate school and beyond. But it is strange to be back.

As every college freshman knows, life on a college campus is a lesson in tolerance. Strange people, who live mere feet away from you, make odd noises, emit bizarre smells, and do –unique—things, 24 hours a day. Yet, despite their proximity, they often remain strangers. The young woman who lived next door to me my freshman year, a member of the field hockey team, never looked me in the eye. As we brushed teeth side by side in the bathroom, she would respond to my “good morning” with a low-level grunt.

Nice to see you too.

In college, students are islands, each pursuing their own vision for their respective futures. We move at least every 9 months, survive on small amounts of money and maintain wild sleep schedules. There is little accountability, and the dogged thrive, while the undisciplined flounder. I would know: I have been both.

Back at home, I experience the opposite of isolation. These people won’t leave me alone! They want me to go grocery shopping, pick up my brother at high school, vacuum the den. Last night my dad informed me that so long as I live at home, church is not optional. But Dad, I am my own temple for the Holy Spirit! To which he replied “And do the dishes, too.”

Should be quite a Summer. Thank God.