I remember the summer after my first year of university, five years ago.

And in particular, I remember that feeling of restlessness that developed around August – that desire to get summer over with and get back to school.

It was a strange feeling back then. After all, summer vacation had been what I lived for since I was 5 years old. Why was I suddenly wishing for it to end?

The reason was a simple one: four months of summer vacation is too much. Before I started university, summer vacation was a strictly July/August routine. May and June were added when I started university, and that just made the whole thing too damned long.

That same feeling of fatigue with summer vacation has returned year after year, and this year is no exception.

The difference is that I can feel it already and we’re not even out of May yet.

I think that the reason is again a very simple one. The past two years I’ve been living fairly independently (financial situation aside). I’ve been living 250 kilometres away from my nearest family, washing my own clothes, cooking my own meals, doing my own dishes, brushing my own teeth, and all sorts of other grown up things.

More to the point, when I’m in Kingston there’s no one telling me where to go or what to do. I have to do that myself. If I don’t do the things that I’m supposed to do, there are consequences. If I don’t make dinner, I don’t eat. If I don’t do the laundry, I have nothing to wear. And so forth.

Going from that situation to the situation I’m in during the summer when I’m living with my parents is hard. Suddenly I’m being told what to do and how to do it at every turn, and it’s driving me crazy.

I think everyone hits a point where they get tired of being told what to do by their parents. For some people it takes 15 years. For others, it’s even faster than that. 

For me it’s taken a solid 24 years to get there. But I am indeed getting there.