Maybe it was waking up early to finish my article for the school newspaper and hearing the editor tell me it was just what she needed.
Maybe it was holding back tears on the way to woodshop, afraid of messing up again, only to finally do something right on the lathe.
Maybe it was using my prox card to get into the dorm for the first time.
Maybe it was seeing that the gender signs had been taken down from the single-stall restrooms.
Maybe it was having 30 kids show up to the club that I started.
Maybe it was putting my phone away in the common room and realizing how much more productive I was during study hall.
Maybe it was spending a few minutes at the headmaster’s house with my whole form for the first time since that awkward first night.
Maybe it was getting cheered on by the headmaster and his wife and one of my teachers at the end of my first home race. Maybe it was beating my personal records in the mile and the 5K all in one.
Maybe it was pumping my legs on the swingset for a few minutes with a friend after going for a walk on my favorite trail.
Maybe it was eating dinner with a 13-year-old faculty kid in the otherwise empty dining hall and watching her open up from staring down at her food to telling me about her friend who’s allergic to chlorine yet swims competitively as I got to know her over the course of the meal.
Or maybe it’s all of these things that make this place feel like home. Maybe all of these little things combine so that I’m excited to go home next weekend for fall break, but not jumping up and down eager to leave.