Bright orange orbs hung from the low hanging branches of a tree that was at the end of a dusty trail. I reached for one and snapped it off. With a rusty knife, I cut the orb in half and bit right into it. Streams of sticky nectar poured down my face as I enjoyed a ripe, juicy mango.

I love mangos: The color, the smell, the taste and the texture -- everything about mangos is fabulous.

My mom used to make rus, an Indian concoction pronounced like the first syllable of Russell.

She used to buy a few boxes of fresh mangos from the market and wait for them to ripen. After they became a good color and had an amazing aroma, my mom would peel the skin off 30 mangos, cut them into small cubes and then blend them.

The thick liquid that came out of the blender would be what most people would call rus. My mom, however, took extra steps so that I would enjoy the rus even more because I hated pulp.

She took the liquid and put it through a huge strainer. This was a lot of work on her part because the pulp from the mango would block the strainer and she would have to squeeze all the mango goodness out of the pulp. My mom went all out to make sure that my mango rus eating experience was the best possible.

Living in State College has distanced me from my mom. Instead of the rus that my mom lovingly squeezed for me, I have to settle for a can of Mucho Mango from McLanahan's. I mean, don't get me wrong; Mucho Mango is probably the best liquid available in a can, but it's still no mango rus.

It wasn't only with rus that my mom took extra steps to ensure that I fully enjoyed all my experiences, she would make other great foods, take days off of work to attend school plays and elementary school art exhibits, help me with projects, etc. She was what you would consider a great mom.

The past two and a half years that I've been in college, I've felt that the mango anecdote is analogous to my entire life. All the care that my mom has given me in my pre-collegiate years has become a memory, and I've settled instead for cheap, materialistic pleasures.

Home-cooked meals with the family have been replaced with fast food on the go.

Watching a movie in the living room with my parents and sister is a thing of the past.

College is a blitzkrieg of sensations that provide you with happiness for a couple moments.

The memories that come from the collegiate social atmosphere are the happiness that replaces the happiness that the family provided. Friends become family.

But, no matter how close friends get, no one can replace mom.

I have a great circle of friends here. They support me in every way I need them to. No one, not even my best friend, can give me the amount of love my mom gives me.

Realizing my mother's love was the best revelation I ever had.