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Whenever I return home from college, I experience a homecoming fit for a king. One of… //
Whenever I return home from college, I experience a homecoming fit for a king. One of my favorite things about going home for vacation is the inexplicable feeling of walking through the front door of my house for the first time in months and being greeted immediately by my sister and father. My sister, Megan, usually gives me a hug while Dad likes to stick with the more conservative and masculine handshake.
But when I went home for Thanksgiving this year, I experienced a new and relatively unfamiliar sensation. As I stumbled through the doorway with all of my big, heavy bags dangling from my limbs like Christmas tree ornaments, a toddler rushed into the kitchen, weaved between the chairs and tables and latched onto the cuff of my jeans.
I scooped her up and studied her face with the intrigue of a biology student examining an old culture of bacteria.
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