Something shifts when you go away to school. It is not just about missing your bed or your favorite snack from home. It is about realizing that some people have been your quiet source of comfort and stability all along, and you never fully saw it. For me, that person is my mother.
Before I came to Kent, I didn’t truly understand that. Sure, I relied on her constantly. But I also met her sweet check-ins with eye rolls, and I grew impatient when she asked too many questions. I assumed she would always be there. It wasn’t until her presence was no longer part of my daily routine that I realized just how much I had taken her for granted.
Boarding school gave me space to grow, but it also gave me perspective. I began to understand what it really means to have a mother nearby and, more importantly, what it means to be a mother.
In psychology, there is a term called secure attachment. It refers to the sense of emotional grounding that comes from knowing someone is always in your corner. That’s exactly what my mother has provided me with for as long as I can remember. Many other boarding students say the same thing. We don’t need to say much when our moms call, text, or pick us up from school. Sitting beside them in the car or simply being in the same room is enough to make our overthinking and stress slow down. Their presence is plenty.
Now, I notice the small things, things I used to overlook. My mom lets me bring home ten friends from Kent on a random Saturday and hosts us like it’s a well planned, thought out party. She makes everything feel special, even if it’s just a regular night. She prepares enough food to quite literally feed a village, sets up rooms, remembers everyone’s name, and smiles through all of it, often while tired or stressed from her full time job. She never asks for anything in return. She gives endlessly, and I mean endlessly.
What I have come to understand is that the thing she wants most is just for her kids to be nearby. That means more to her than any grade or accomplishment. She misses the everyday moments, the breakfasts together eaten on the kitchen island, the spontaneous conversations, the laughter echoing through the house. When my sisters and I are all home, even for just a weekend, I can see how her face softens, how her energy shifts. She becomes visibly lighter, visibly happier.
Today on Mother’s Day, as I get ready for prom, I think of her. I miss her. She would have steamed my dress and fixed the strands of hair I cannot reach. I sit with that feeling and realize how much this distance has helped me grow not just into someone more independent, but into someone more appreciative.
Motherhood, I’ve learned, is rarely about grand gestures. It is defined by consistency, by sacrifices, by showing up again and again. And maybe the most meaningful thing we can do in return is simple: show up too. Pay attention. Be present. And let our mothers know that we finally see them for all that they are and all that they give to us each day even whilst being miles away.
