Three Months Away: A Holiday of Many Faces

Three months. Ninety-something days away from the familiar buzz of campus life. For students, these long holidays away from college feel different to everyone — a mix of paradise, purgatory, and everything in between.

For some, home is nothing short of heaven. Waking up in a familiar room, warm food made with love, no deadlines, no early morning classes — just comfort. These are the students who often say, “I could stay like this forever.” They are surrounded by all that they missed while at college — family, home-cooked meals, childhood friends, and the luxury of doing absolutely nothing. For them, the thought of returning to the hostel or college routine can feel like a rude interruption to a perfect dream.

But for others, home doesn’t quite feel like home. For them, the holidays are a stretch of time where space is scarce — both physically and emotionally. Every day is a reminder of what they’re not getting: solitude, understanding, or peace. The walls that once felt safe now echo with pressure, expectations, or unresolved tension. They feel disconnected, even lost, like a part of themselves stayed back at college. They count the days not with joy, but with quiet longing to return to the place where they can breathe more freely.

And then, there are those who float somewhere in the middle. Some days, all they want is home — its warmth, its people, its food. But then the cup overflows — maybe it’s a harsh word, an awkward silence, or just the feeling of not being able to be you — and suddenly, they long for the hostel bed, the college corridor, the random 2 a.m. conversations. It’s a constant pendulum swing between two worlds that both feel like home and yet don’t, all at once.

But no matter how these months feel — heavenly, hellish, or a bit of both — there’s one thing that ties all students together: the ache of missing their friends.

Sure, phones exist. There are texts, calls, FaceTime marathons. But it’s never quite the same. In college, friends are always around — for gossip, late-night Maggie, meme wars, emotional breakdowns, and loud card games. Those small, chaotic moments that seemed ordinary then now feel like the most precious parts of life. And it’s only in their absence that their value becomes so clear.

Because at home, even the strongest break. A sudden breakup over a dry text, and no one to vent to. A family argument that simmers for days. A dream that feels too far away. You find yourself staring at the ceiling some nights, tears sliding down quietly, wishing for something — anything — to make it all make sense.

But eventually, it does.

Slowly, a shift begins. One day, you wake up and feel a little lighter. Maybe you laughed a bit more that day. Maybe you realized the sunset looked beautiful from your window. Or maybe you just stopped asking “why me” and started telling yourself, “it’ll pass.”

And it will.

Three months can hold a world of emotions. But somewhere between the highs and lows, students begin to learn something far more valuable than any course: that life won’t always be perfect, but meaning can be found in the mess. That happiness isn’t always loud — sometimes, it’s just peace.

And when they return to college, everything might still feel the same — the same classes, the same professors, the same campus — but something inside them will have quietly changed.

They’ll hug their friends tighter. They’ll laugh louder. They’ll look around and realize that maybe, just maybe, they had something beautiful all along.

By, Rohan