I start to wonder what else had changed since I'd been gone. My parents are in an awkward puzzle, wondering how to treat me now----whether to treat me--still their daughter--as one of them, an adult, or as the child they feel they sent away months earlier. I run into two of my best friends from high school; we stare at each other, expressionless. We ask the simple questions and give simple answers. It's as if we have nothing to say to each other. I wonder how things have changed so much in such a small amount of time. We used to laugh and promise that no matter how far away we were, our love for each other would never change. Their interests don't interest me anymore, and I find myself unable to relate my life to theirs. I had been so excited to come home, but now I just look at it all and wonder: Is it me? Why hadn't the world stood still here while I was gone?  My room isn't the same, my friends and I don't share the same promise, and my parents don't know how to treat me--or who I am, for that matter. I get back to school feeling half-satisfied, but not disappointed. I sit up in my bed in my dorm room, surrounded by my pictures, dolls. As I wonder what has happened, I realize that I can't expect the world to stand still and move forward at the same time.  I can change and expect that things at home will stay the same. I have to find comfort in what has changed and what is new; keep the memories, but live in the present. A few weeks later, I'm packing again, this time for winter break. My mom meets me at the door. I have come home accepting the changes, not only in my surroundings, but most of all in me. What surprises the writer most?
The living conditions of her parents. The decorations in her room. The meeting with her best friends. The things still staying the same.