Our oldest is a senior in college. He has humored us with a first day photo since he entered the “13th grade.” This year, I didn’t get just a selfie, but a selfie-video of his “last first day.” He somehow made a 16 and gave a thumbs up, although he admits he is sad the last year has come so quickly.
As for our middle child, I requested a “14th grade photo” and he simply replied, “Nah.” Later in the day I texted, “still waiting for my pic” and told him his siblings sent photos. Finally, on the third day of classes, he sent me a picture of his flight school I.D. badge. I’ll take what I can get. Especially this school year.
We moved said middle child into the dorm almost two weeks ago. For his freshman year, we moved him in, set up his room, stopped at the store, exchanged tearful hugs and texted daily.
Not this year.
Initially, he talked about us all going to dinner at his favorite place near campus once move-in was complete. As the day drew near, it became “Maybe we can get something to eat.” And then, “My friends are moving in before me.” Followed by, “My friends are meeting us at the dorm.”
And they did. As we pulled up our son — who arrived in his own vehicle a few minutes ahead of us — rolled out of the building with three other guys. They grabbed the futon from the back of our truck and made their way to the elevator.
It was such a relief to see — and feel — his excitement about going back to college; a far cry from the jittery nerves of last year.
The futon found its designated space, and the rest of the bags and boxes were scattered about the room.
“Mom, can you make my bed?” he asked, just like last year. And also just like last year, the lofted bed shoved against the wall proved to be the biggest challenge of the move-in process.
At least until our son’s friend said, “How long will you be? We will wait for you.”
It was then we knew that the post-move-in dinner would not be happening, and the new challenge was trying not to react to the fact he wanted us to leave — like ASAP — so he could catch up with his friends.
I tried to stall our departure by sifting through bags that needed to be unpacked and finding spaces for storage cubes, desk lamps and fans.
“I’ll put this all away later,” he said without batting an eye at the task ahead.
“Are you sure?” we asked. “Really?”
He knew right where he wanted things and would do it himself.
Like the Good Book says, to every thing there is a season and a purpose including a time to be born, die, plant, harvest, heal, break down, build up, weep, laugh, and mourn. But, there is also a time to leave, so we did, but not without a picture.
Reluctantly he posed with us in his tiny room. And by “posed,” I mean when the shutter clicked, he looked at the fake watch on his wrist like he was checking to see if it was time for us to go; always a comedian.
He texted me as we drove home and thanked us for “all the things.” Grateful for the peaceful transition back to college, I quietly realized it was his time to leave, too, albeit the nest.
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