As my senior year continues, I can’t imagine being anywhere other than Georgetown. I adore my friends, the beautiful neighborhood, the stimulating conversation, my Sweetgreen salads and my ability to sleep in whenever I want. Realizing that in the next few months I’ll be leaving this idyllic setting, I’ve been reluctant to escape Washington, D.C., for too long. I fear that I’ll miss a defining event, party or moment of my college career and forever regret my absence from Georgetown on that day.

This weekend, however, I ventured back home to attend my cousin Meg’s wedding in northeast Pa. While I only live about two hours away by Amtrak, I unfortunately don’t get to see my family often or for that long. Each year, my visits grow shorter as I have more work and become more embedded in the Georgetown community. This particular weekend was no different, as I still had a few assignments to complete for the following week and would only be able to be home for less than 24 hours.

I dreaded rushing from class to Union Station, anticipating that I would be too tired to enjoy myself at the reception but there was no way I could miss this event. Meg’s wedding marked my third family nuptial event in the last year but her ceremony would not be like the others because my mother was officiating this service. On the train home, I kept humming Dusty Springfield’s “Son of a Preacher Man,” thinking for a brief moment that I could possibly relate to this song. I also thought that I would be able to cut the buffet line because of my elevated status; apparently, a daughter of an online ordained minister must wait for her chicken parmesan just like everybody else.

While I could not wait to see my mother’s performance, I also looked forward to the reception and, to be more specific, the opportunity to make use of the dance floor. I have been likened to a hybrid of such “unique” and mistakenly characterized as “bad” dancers like “Seinfeld’s” Elaine Benes and “Saturday Night Live” character Mary Katherine Gallagher (Superstar!), but no other activity gives me greater pleasure than letting loose on some hardwood floor. Of course, I dance at Georgetown, whether it be at The Tombs, Rangila, Senior Dis-Orientation events or privately, but dancing at school cannot compare to dancing amongst my family members.

At Georgetown, I may have to explain to people, “No, I am not intoxicated,” or “No, I am not having a seizure,” and tell them that my flailing limbs, exaggerated movements and literal interpretation of lyrics are a completely authentic demonstration of the way I like to dance. At home, my relatives accept and encourage this kind of behavior, although this often comes at my expense, because they either videotape or take photos of me, but it’s mostly because they enjoy seeing me happy. They wholeheartedly join me on the dance floor and accompany me in dancing to oldies, pop and ’90sR&B.

While I could dance to all these songs in a crowded Georgetown bar, being amongst my family away from the university was surprisingly refreshing. I bond over many different things with my friends at Georgetown, but I will always share my love of dance and letting go with my aunts, uncles and cousins. In returning home, I most wanted to gawk at my mother marrying two people, but dancing and conversing with family members proved more entertaining and fulfilling. It may be hard for me as a senior in college to think of being anywhere else but Georgetown, but it’s encouraging to know wherever I am next year I can always come back home to several enthusiastic dance partners.

Mary Burgoyne is a senior in the College. ALMOST ADULT appears every other Friday in the guide.