As the leaves begin to turn, I’m reminded of all that has changed over the past year and how quickly the time has flown. In the blink of an eye, my first year at Penn has come to a close, and I'm returning to campus as a sophomore: reuniting with friends, meeting new ones, and diving into a pool of never–ending readings. It’s too early to get nostalgic about college when it’s only the beginning of my second year, but in the midst of Stommons coffee chats and the stress of club applications, I’ve become aware of how easy it is to focus only on the future without recognizing everything that has made me who I am today.
Approaching my sophomore year of high school, which meant a return to fully in–person learning, felt new and scary. I still remember the first Tuesday back—the first moment that I wished that I had appreciated my childhood more, the first time in years that I climbed under the cozy blankets of my parents' bed to watch a show with them. This time, it was the pilot episode of Only Murders in the Building. Upon hearing the opening notes of the theme song, we were hooked. Soon enough, watching the show together became a weekly tradition; I would finish my homework, rush through my nightly routine, and spend an hour with my parents trying to piece together the murder mystery bit by bit.
Eventually, though, as warm summer skies turned into crisp fall breezes and junior year inevitably arrived, my Tuesdays became much less free. My course load started to get more overwhelming, SAT prep invaded every single one of my thoughts, and I found myself falling behind on the show I would tune into like clockwork the year prior. While lying on the floor of my bedroom, the faint and familiar voices of Oliver (Martin Short), Charles (Steve Martin), and Mabel (Selena Gomez) would echo across the hallway and filter into my ears—a couple glances at the television told me what to expect the next time I was able to log onto Hulu. Weeknights spent recapping the newest episodes evolved into yelling theories and potential plot twists to one another in between rooms; although my mom and I were no longer watching the show at the same time, our discussions with one another still made it a joint activity.
As I've continued to follow Only Murders In The Building over the past five years, each season's release has felt perfectly timed. The themes of the show reflected major events in my life in a way that felt cosmic. Returning to the show each year serves as a constant reminder of how my life has changed since its first season—Season Three’s overarching themes of parent–child relationships and independence hit close to home while I was planning my first four years away from my mom and dad, and Season Four’s topic of stunt doubles arrived as I was navigating the tension between my new life on campus and my old one back at home. Although most of the important events of the show happen within the apartment complex The Arconia, the show's core trio also grow their relationships with others and go on adventures outside of the building. No matter how far I go, everything still comes back to my childhood—my Arconia. This show, this story, feels like a scaffold for my life, and as I grapple with new themes in my adult life, so do the characters I’ve grown to love.
With the show’s fifth season coming out this fall, I'm once again thinking back to my childhood. In the comfy confines of my dorm room, I find myself trying to escape the stress and fear of deciding my future. Despite all that has changed, how much I’ve changed, this cozy murder mystery has found a way to remain a part of my life. I can’t help but think of a younger version of myself when certain jokes are made or when I see familiar actors from other shows I loved to watch. I can’t help but think about what I would be doing if I was watching this show at home: Would I have had my grandmother’s savory and delicious noodle soup for dinner? Exchanged witty jokes with my little brother at the dining table? Given my dog a hug on our gray couch?
Although we’re not together in person, photos with my family are anchored to the wall of my dorm room and stare back at me as I watch the adventures of Oliver, Charles, and Mabel unfold on my laptop. It’s almost like they’re with me still. Despite all of the changes that I've undergone over this past year, this show will always be a part of me. When I put it on, I am transported back to my sixteen–year–old self: the girl who would rush home to watch one of her favorite shows every week, the girl who was both nervous and excited about the future, the girl who dreamed of being in the exact place that I’m in today.
As I look back on my freshman year at Penn, I’ve learned that it’s okay to take a step back in order to embrace your homesickness and reminisce about your childhood—it may just be a great reminder to see how far you’ve come. Reuniting with media that was a formative part of my adolescence makes it hard not to miss my home, my family, my friends, my childhood. And while I used to be afraid about dwelling too much on the past, I now know that holding on to the parts of my childhood that shaped who I am doesn’t hold me back—it keeps me grounded in the face of all the possibilities in my future.
