It’s Homecoming season!
In college, preparing for Homecoming was an event in itself. You figured out what to wear and made sure you had enough money for the weekend. You carefully studied the signs posted on the Hub to make sure you didn’t miss a single event. Sleep was optional. Comfort was somebody else’s problem. Lunch hour required a decision: eat or miss the stroll contest. And the thought of leaving the HiHat before the party ended? Absolutely not.
Now, preparing for Homecoming requires as much logistical planning as an international family trip.
First, you have to secure a hotel. This takes precision because once schools announce the dates, prices skyrocket to the cost of a mortgage on a million-dollar home. And if you waited until October to book a room for a Homecoming that starts Friday, baby, you need prayer, discernment and a backup plan.
Then comes the wardrobe. One outfit for the day party, one for the block party, one for the step show, one for the tailgate, one for the game, one for the alumni party, and a backup in case you decide the first outfit makes you look like an auntie. Each outfit must be cute, comfortable, age-appropriate but not too age-appropriate, and flattering from every angle. Somewhere between checking the weather and deciding whether the denim jacket you chose works with the outfit, you realize you have packed for a 10-day cruise across the Mediterranean.
Speaking of shoes, you need comfortable ones, but they must be cute and complete the outfit. You also need several purses, each big enough to hold the essentials but small enough to meet the entry requirements.
Somewhere between packing lip shine, shapewear and a portable charger, you have to decide if your knees can handle the itinerary you have created. And you haven’t even left the house.
We Still Think We Can Hang
Because here is the thing about Homecoming: Your spirit is still 21, but your knees are 47. Somewhere during the day, your body schedules a meeting to decide whether you can press on.
Yet, every year, we go.
The group chat starts pinging in July. One friend says she’s only coming for the game, which is the first lie of Homecoming season. Another says she’s not spending too much money this year, but she has already paid for a hotel, two outfits, a brunch reservation and a ticket to the alumni ball. Another friend says, “We’re too old for that,” but will be the first one dressed when it’s time for the step show.
We come dressed to the nines, ready to reconnect and prepared to act like the years between graduation and the present were just a summer break. We hug people that we haven’t seen since the last Homecoming, and we take pictures with friends whose names we cannot remember without checking Facebook.
We laugh at old memories as if they happened yesterday, not a decade ago. And we sit in lawn chairs, remembering old hairstyles, clothing fads and questionable decisions. Our mouths water for catfish Friday at Elam Arms and breakfast night in the Commons.
The years fall away, and suddenly a whole row in the tailgate section is doing a collective line dance. We reminisce about the people we were before mortgages, parent-teacher conferences, career changes and the thousands of responsibilities that come with growing up. We genuinely believe we can make the tailgate, watch the game, hit the day party, find our classmates, grab something to eat, attend the alumni event and still make the after-party. For a few days, it is like we are back during senior year, enjoying the last hurrah before life gets real.
We Return Because We Still Belong
This is the magic of Homecoming. It is why it means so much, even to those of us old enough to know better than to schedule six events in one day.
We are not simply returning to a campus; we are returning to a community of memories, relationships, traditions and shared experiences. Laughing with the friends we first imagined our futures with, we celebrate in the places where we learned things about ourselves that the degree we earned doesn’t reflect.
It reminds us that the people we used to be are still in there somewhere. They are just buried beneath the work emails, family obligations, grocery lists and shared calendars. We don’t want to leave the life we have now because remembering who we were helps us appreciate who we are.
We are more “mature,” and our priorities have changed like our waistlines. We’ve lost some of the friends who once made these weekends larger than life. Friendships have evolved, and sometimes, standing in the same spot on campus where you met the love of your life (or the one who you thought was), you realize that you are not the same person who walked that campus.
That’s not necessarily a bad thing.
Homecoming isn’t a time to prove we can still party like a college student. It’s a time to celebrate returning to the places that shaped us without needing to be the people we were back then. We can appreciate the memories without recreating them. We can leave early and still have a good time. We can wear the cute heels but also bring the flats.
We just have to keep showing up. Not just for the photographs or parties, but for the conversations, laughter and memories.
That’s what makes Homecoming so special. It’s not just about football, bands or tailgates. It’s about coming home to a community that remembers who you were before life got complicated. You are surrounded by people who understand the music, traditions and quoted TV lines without an explanation. For a few days, you live outside the world of mother, manager and referee. Then you return to it because that life afforded you this one.
No, Homecoming is not for the weak. It requires a budget and a strategy. You might even need a midday nap and a bottle of pain meds when it’s all over. But if you are lucky, it might just give you the chance to remember who you were when life was easy. (Even if we didn’t know it then.) The beauty of growing older is knowing that we don’t have to prove to anyone that we are the people we used to be. Sometimes, the best thing we can do for ourselves is spend a little time with our former selves.
Just do yourself a few favors. Stretch before you leave home. Drink your water. Find a secure spot for your keys. Don’t forget the backup charger. And use good judgment to leave the after-party when your knees tell you it’s time to go.
This MFP Voices opinion essay reflects the personal opinion of its author(s). The column does not necessarily represent the views of the Mississippi Free Press, its staff or board members. To submit an opinion for the MFP Voices section, send up to 1,200 words and sources fact-checking the included information to voices@mississippifreepress.org. We welcome a wide variety of viewpoints.
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