“I’m stopping college.” I told myself.

“I’m stopping college.” I repeated firmer than before.

“I’m stopping college!” I shouted echoing in the empty dorm room leaving for the final time.

I squirmed as my seeping palms gripped the steering wheel. I felt the sweat drip from my brow, my stomach churn. My legs were numb, my eyes were buzzing, every ounce of my body suffered resounding anxiety. My head worst, fallen limp against the sweat-covered steering wheel.

“I’m not ruining my life, right? Oh God, now I’m repeating the cycle.”

"I'm making the right decision, I'm making the right decision, I'm making the right decision." Repeated out loud reassuring myself this is right.

I sat up and shook my head clearing my thoughts. I listened to the roar of the engine and let out a sigh. The drive home was uneventful, distracted by thoughts of the future; of how with the money on hand I expected to be happy. I prepared for every question, pondered every possibility, answering my doubts towards the choice.
---
I parked and turned off the car. “Deep breath in for three seconds and deep breath out for three seconds.” Inhale, exhale, inhale, exhale, breathe, always remember to breathe. I dragged myself inside, the door creaking as it has for decades.

“Aster, you’re home!” A jubilant pitchy voice exclaimed from the kitchen. The scamper of feet against the hardwood as she jumped the step from kitchen to foyer. Not missing a beat and turning on a dime she jumped at me. I readily crouched and caught her in a hug.

“Alice! Are you being a good girl and helping mother with dinner?” I asked, lifting her as I stood up and moseyed into the kitchen.

I felt her chin nod on my shoulder, “Today is pasta!” She exuberantly exclaimed.

“Welcome home,” My mother greeted from the stove, her eyes bright and her smile wide.

“Glad to be back, all of my stuff is still outside in the car; I’ll steal Dad after dinner to help take it all in.”

“I’m sure he will love that.” She jokingly answered. Alice began wiggling in my embrace asking to be put down. She scurried over to mother who lifted her and returned to cooking.

“Raam going to be home tonight?” I inquired walking through the hallway to the stairwell.

“He said his meeting would be finished at 7, so he should be getting in shortly after we finish eating unfortunately.” She answered, I knew she wanted to wait for him to return, but more times than not his meetings run long. Years before we would wait for hours, pursuing the idea of the family dinner but at one point the hours of waiting changed to hours of arguing over pointless topics. Eventually, we stopped waiting, we made him a plate, always, but we no longer senselessly waited for his return.

A right at the top of the stairs being the first room on the right was mine, true my entire life. Some would smile with nostalgia at this moment, reliving the memories of their entire life being momentum for their choice to move on. As I looked around the room, at the dresser unmoved since birth, the wall drawings from my toddler years, unread teenage bought books and a wall filled with pokemon cards straight from adult dreams. I gained no motivational reinvigoration from nostalgia, instead remorse, having not returned sooner. Spiteful at my ignorance towards my ambitions.

Why did I never accept this is what I wanted? Clarification, this remorseful nostalgia painfully vindicated my choice to give up.

“Don’t worry we didn’t move anything.” My father interjected from behind me. That inherently was the problem with this childhood room, this house as a whole, nothing has changed in twenty-two years.

“Hi old man,” I turned around and embraced him for a hug.

“Welcome home Aster, glad to have you back.” He spoke in a soft voice releasing our hug. I turned and threw my backpack into the middle of the room.

“Really nice photography by the way. Your mom and I always love seeing your photos first thing in the morning.” He informed as we moseyed downstairs to the kitchen.

“I’m really glad to hear that, thank you. It is never the easiest to get at five in the morning.” I laughed watching Mom help Alice strain the pasta.

“You are doing amazing; you make a portfolio over the semester? Our church recently asked for photos for their calendar.” He reached up into the cabinets over the counter pulling out four plates. I opened the top drawer from the island, taking out four pairs of forks and knives.

“I have a preliminary portfolio; you can look through it to send off to them.” I placed one pair of utensils at the four middle-most placemats, ignoring the two heads of the table.

“You have taken some amazing photos.” Mom agreed, the pasta now moved to a giant bowl covered in her home-crafted marinara sauce and mozzarella cheese. Held in Alice’s dainty hands was a bowl the size of her head filled to the brim with meatballs.

“Some? All! Aster takes such pretty pictures! He should take me with him! I want to see the pretty sun too!” Alice pitched in with her pitchy voice. Barely tall enough to reach and place the bowl in the middle of the table. I could not contain the smile as I messed with her neat head of black hair.

“My hair!” Escaped a shrill as she shoved my hand away with a pout.

“I’ll come in your room before I leave, but if you are not awake, I’m not taking you with me.” I teased, we circled the table moseying to our standard seats, Alice took the seat beside me, Mom across from her.

“What time, what time!” She pestered, her blue eyes gleaming from the chandelier lights.

“5 in the morning, make sure you get plenty of sleep.” I replied as she nodded along, mouthing 5 am repeatedly drilling the time into her head.

“Aster would you lead us in grace?” Mother asked.

I nodded, “Thank you God for this food, for this time together, and for more time in the future. Thank you for your love, may this food be as amazing as always.”

“Amen,” we said in unison.

“Mangiare,” My mother followed a tradition from my Nana, her mom.

“How do you feel you did this semester?” My dad asked scooping the pasta onto his plate.

“I feel I did well, continued the 3.3 GPA, finals will confirm or deny that, but based on midterms I feel everything should be fine come final grades.”

“You have an internship lined up for the summer? Need to start getting on those to help the resume following college.”

“I do not yet, I have reached out to a few places, but not heard back at all.”

“Let’s together la-“

“Honey, we can discuss this later.” My mom cut in. The old man is only looking out for me, I know that, but I do not want to continue this brick-and-mortar path.

“Alice, what is your dream?”

“Mi-i dw-eem?” She stuttered muffled by her mouthful of spaghetti.

“Yes, your dream,” I laughed wiping the spattered sauce from her face.

“Ice cream, of swimming through scoops of ice cream!”

“That is a remarkable dream.” Such an innocent child, I am envious.

“What is Aster’s dream?”

“Ice cream, of swimming through scoops of ice cream.” I raised my voice high as possible but was nowhere close to replicating her exuberant voice.

“Heck off to pluto!” She pouted stuffing her face with a meatball.

“Awww, but I love you!”

“No! Go heck off to pluto!”

“But Alice! I can’t see you then!”

“Nope! Good!”

“ALICE!” I could not suppress the laughter present in my voice.

Our parents watched silently patiently eating the food. I miss this, there is nothing like it at college. The rest of dinner was quiet but enjoyable, left to my thoughts. It was time, I’m not happy, I want to be happy. Like when I was drawing on the walls, chose video games over books, and ambitiously decided to create a wall of pokemon cards. I was happy. At college, I am not happy. When I am sitting at the desk studying terms and graphs, memorizing formulas and theorems I feel overwhelmed with dread. It is time I let myself be happy again.