Homecoming started a week early for me.

Fall Break gave me a one-day getaway-a chance to temporarily leave all that is going on here behind. I was given a chance to spend time with my beloved long-time friends from my home, good ole Kankakee.

It was the perfect time for a little step away.

Although the hometown’s entertainment venues consist of a couple chain restaurants, the barn where my friend’s band plays and the homes of whoever’s parents are out for the weekend, I managed to maximize my weekend, filling my senses with the best of the “Keys.”

Cyndi, my friend since junior high and I were welcomed to exit 312 with a trip to Poor Boy Restaurant, where $5 buys enough chicken and fries drenched in barbecue sauce for a few good hearty meals.

From there on, my weekend was perfected not by where I went, but who I was with.

These friendships that have grown through time spans of five to 15 years, one-fourth to three-fourths of my life.

I had midterm study time with Emily and despite the fact we weren’t perfecting the pencil-tapping code in case one of us got stuck on our eighth grade Constitution test–considering we were studying two different subjects–we made it fun.

She is the best, with anecdotes like “Remember the time the map fell on our high school history teacher’s head?” and “Remember two summers ago when Ludacris took his shirt off and I screamed?”

Studying lasted all of 30 minutes before we stopped and caught the end of the Yankees game on our friend Kyle’s 57-inch TV in his new apartment, commenting that the players on the screen were the same size as me.

Then we joined Sarah, my teammate from coach-pitch softball more than a decade ago, to spend some time with our friend who is home for a couple weeks before he leaves the country with the military.

Day two: my friend Heather, who I went to middle school with, joined Emily and I to visit our girl Jennifer and her new baby. Then we went for a trip down the back roads where we partied in a garage and sang along to members of our friends’ band playing covers and original songs we’ve learned the words to.

Another Emily, a friend so close I once picked Oreos out of her teeth when her crush came along, didn’t get a break so we used unlimited weekend minutes to catch up.

I joined another friend I first met backstage in high school plays to see “Texas Chainsaw Massacre” when I returned to Charleston Sunday, just adding to the happiness of a weekend among genuine friends.

Despite having my eyes closed for a majority of the movie, I had a great time with great company.

“Remember when’s” and deep conversations about life changes and ambitions accompanied familiar but maturing faces.

The weekend made me treasure the friends who helped me grow into who I am and will always be special to me.

It also made me wonder why friendship like that at Eastern is so rare.

Why is friendship here so reliant on the color of windbreakers tied around waists?

Any one person here could find something in common with any other person whether it is political interests, a tendency to dance on tables with the belief you really are as talented as Mya or Lil’ Jon after just a couple sips of jungle juice or a similar dream to have a corner office at The Chicago Tribune.

A best friend could be found in any lecture hall, sharing from the same vat of party potatoes in the residence halls or hiding from party-busting police in the same closet.

The very few close friends I’ve made in my couple years here I have bonded with while complaining about life in this newsroom or have gone from sharing the same floor in Carman Hall to sharing a house.

Even the biggest things start out small.

I don’t remember the exact words, but I am certain all of my friendships-for-years began with a simple smile and hello.