I sit here, in my old room of the house I grew up in, knowing that I have been surrounded by people that have loved me and cared for me unconditionally my whole life. Fourteen people sat around our table at Christmas, some of whom are new to an extended family through the marriage of my younger brother. All of these people are wonderful people who would do anything for each other.

But I sit here in this old room, connected at the moment with others who do not have such a life. The words of a friend who has just watched her alcoholic father return home drunk, once again, and the hurt and pain of a life she has missed carry their sadness on the screen in front of me:

Me: and it hurts in a way that only you know
Her: it does
Her: i just...
Her: i know if he were to get caught he would drop down in his program
Her: spend the night ( at least ) in jail
Her: and i am just so tired of being the grownup
Her: cant someone just take care of me
Her: i rush to save my family to often
Her: i am the baby
Her: cant i jsut be the baby

For many, returning home from college for the break is not a time of cheerfully hanging out with family and eating homemade meals made by loving parents. It is a return to the loneliness and betrayal of brokenness. It is a return to a reality that they have been able to escape from for at least the few months that make up the semester. We must remember this and know that some of the greatest need among some students is not in their world away from home, it is in the atrocity that supposedly is their homes.