A TIME TO GROW UP by Libby Wright

Libby Wright

Libby Wright was born and raised in San Marino, California. After graduating from San Marino High School, Libby traveled across the country to begin college at Penn State University. In the Fall, the nineteen-year-old will be studying Public Relations at The University of Southern California, where she will happily be fifteen miles away from her family.

As a child, I always felt ready to be a “grown up.”  When I was seven years old, I would step into my mother’s high heels and walk around on the hardwood floor to hear the clunk, clunk I associated with older women.  Whenever my mother caught me, she would say, “Don’t wish your life away!”  But I never could stop wanting to be older than my actual age.  In middle school, I would see the big high school kids and wish time would hurry up so I could be as pretty and happy as they were.  Yet when I was finally in their shoes, I didn’t feel as adult as they always seemed to be.  Thus, I was unsurprisingly ready to move on to college way before my time.

While I wasn’t exactly sure where I wished to attend college, I knew one thing: I needed a change of atmosphere. I had lived in little San Marino, California, my entire life.  I went to high school with the same people I met in kindergarten. San Marino is one of those cities in which the whole population hears about a sneeze within two seconds.  I was sick of this place and its drama, so I wanted to go far away to a big college where my personal business would not spread like a wildfire. I eventually decided to voyage to the middle of nowhere: State College, Pennsylvania, home of the Penn State Nittany Lions.

Unfortunately, my plan to travel 3,000 miles away for four years was not met with encouragement. I believed in the theory that it was “only a plane ride away!”  My mother told me it was too far, too big, and too cold. I had never been homesick in my life, so I did not see why the distance would be an issue. And too big?  C’mon, the campus is only twice the size of San Marino! The cold didn’t seem too big an issue, either, because after eighteen years of year round perfect weather, I was dying to see seasons. I became so frustrated with all the negativity and pressure surrounding my decision that I didn’t even want to attend holiday family events. I was tired of hearing my grandfather try to convince me to stay in California. Why wouldn’t they just let me make my own decisions? My brothers kept telling me how crazy I was for wishing to leave the Sunshine State, and they never failed to let me know how much they thought I would hate Pennsylvania. My family, who had always been my backbone, was making me even more anxious to leave.

As my arrival at Penn State neared, my excitement grew.  I could not wait to finally be a college girl! I would have so much fun and meet great people from different backgrounds. When I arrived, the question I heard over and over again was, “Wow, why did you come all the way over here from California?” I was sick of this after an hour of meeting people, mainly because it was so hard to explain.  I needed the experience. I did not want to stay stuck in southern California my entire life, never knowing the opposite side of life. Plus, I always dreamt of living on the East Coast, bundled up in fashionable winter clothes, Starbucks in one hand and shopping bags in the other. I wanted to be daring and different. I wanted to escape my sheltered life and become a well-rounded, informed individual. It was never simply about wanting to change my life; I also believed living in the East would give me a new knowledge of the world. So I did it.  I came to Penn State despite the pressure to stay close to home.

My goal, my reason for leaving California for Pennsylvania, was accomplished more quickly than I imagined, and I learned more than I expected to learn. The first few weeks, I fell in love with the new college scene. I’ve always been an outgoing person, so I loved meeting new people.  Going out at night was fun and different from the small house parties in San Marino. The football games were exciting, but the early start times and the lack of tailgating disappointed me. I thought college would be the best four years of my life. After all, that’s what everyone else says.  I started to believe I would love Penn State, and I did not feel at all ready to go home. 

And then homecoming arrived, and it just so happened to be on the same weekend as my high school homecoming game. Every single person I knew went home for homecoming, and my little brother was the quarterback, so I felt awful for missing out. I wanted to be home with my friends, good weather, and my family. Homecoming here was incredibly different. In high school, I was a cheerleader, so I spent weeks preparing for our game. But here, it was just another football game to me. I was frustrated because I made this decision that really wasn’t “just a plane ride away.”  It was two plane rides that took up an entire day, so there was no possible way I could ever go home for a weekend like everyone else at Penn State did.  I began to realize that “too far” was accurate.

A month later, I finally went home for the first time, and everything was different. I felt so out of place, as if I had no home. My high school friends were not the same, and I did not feel the same.  However, after a few days, this strangeness wore off and I was dreading coming back to Penn State.  I didn’t hate it, but I hated being away from my family. 

After winter break, I went to New York City, where I had characterized as the epitome of the East Coast.  I hated it.  The people were rude and worn out compared to the lively population in California. Everyone seemed so unhappy and uninviting. Plus, the city was filthy, so I could not see how anyone would love it. Not to mention, the style was nowhere near what I expected.  When I traveled to Philadelphia and Pittsburgh, I was not impressed, either.  The East was a huge let down, but I never would have known until I tried.

Through my experience, I also began to see the immaturity of college students. I figured it ended with high school, but I should have known better. All anyone ever talked about was getting drunk or having sex.  I thought to myself, “You know, there are more important things in life.” 

Before I came home for Spring Break, my grandfather took a fall, broke his wrist, and had to have surgery. The doctors say he will probably never retain full motion in his wrist. My 99-year-old great grandmother suffered a stroke and was put in a convalescent hospital.  This, of course, left my grandmother going absolutely crazy because she had to take care of her husband and her mother. At my cousin’s engagement party, I overheard my grandparents arguing, and it broke my heart to see them falling apart because of a stupid injury.  I looked at my beautiful cousin and saw bones – she had developed anorexia when I was 3,000 miles away.  I kept thinking to myself, why wasn’t I there?  Why did I leave my family, the people who mean everything to me? I thought I let them down and I became overwhelmed with guilt for not being there when they needed me the most. I felt selfish for not listening to them when they wanted me to stay closer to home.  I left them behind to seek for myself.

I had to do it.  If I had not experienced this other side of the world, I never would have known all of the beauty I had all along.  It’s easy to take things for granted, but now that I realize what I have, I never want to let it go. It doesn’t matter that I feel ahead of my time, because there is one place I will always belong: with my family.  I can’t wish my life away, because right now, in this moment, I have all that I will ever need.  It is more than enough.