Michael called last week and asked us to help him move
out of his dorm room. So Saturday afternoon, Sean and I drove up to move him
out. When we got there the only things that were packed were the car pictures
he’d hung on his walls. Those had been stacked neatly and placed gingerly
in a suitcase. Everything else: still in drawers, on hangers, on shelves.
After going to three different stores to find boxes, we got
his room packed up and loaded into Sean’s truck. Michael still has a few days
of exams to finish, so we left him with just enough clothes and Cokes to get
him through Wednesday. Everything else went in the back of the Escalade. As we
drove the boy’s stuff home, it hit me that his first year at college is almost
finished. He’ll be home later this week. His freshman year will be in the
books.
Wasn’t it just last year at this time I was crying every
other minute, dreading the thought that he’d be away at school? And now the
thing I feared is over?
How did this happen?
I got an email from a friend last night, telling me she
had just submitted her son’s housing info for his freshman year at college. She
said if she thinks about it too much she can barely hold herself together. She
wrote, “The thought of taking him to campus, moving him in and then LEAVING HIM
THERE is too much for me!”
Oh, honey, I know the feeling! But I also know she'll be okay.
Oh, honey, I know the feeling! But I also know she'll be okay.
I don’t blame her if she doesn't believe me. I didn’t believe the people who told me I’d be
okay. And there were plenty of people who did. They’d gone through it and they
knew I would, in fact, be okay.
That’s the trick, though: they’d walked that path already
and come out the other side mostly unscathed. And now, I have, too. Dropping
him off was terrible. As bad as I feared. But then we entered into our new
normal. And so did he. And it was good. We all had a really good year.
So, dear friend, allow me to be one of the many people adding my voice
to the chorus of, “You will be okay.”
You really will.
And I will not be offended one little bit if you don’t
believe me. But when you reach the point of thinking you absolutely cannot get
through it, just remember that the woman who bawled her eyes out for months in
anticipation of the dreaded drop-off actually survived. The same woman made it
through the first family meal with an empty place at the table and the first
family road trip with an empty seat in the car and the first of many, many days
in a row of not talking to the child she’d never gone that long without talking
to before. And this woman is telling you that it was okay. It was new and
different and sometimes weird, but all in all, it was okay.
And in 12 months, you’ll be the one telling your friend
of a senior that she too will be okay. Because even though you thought you
wouldn’t survive, you did.
And you’re okay
And you’re okay
Surely God is my help;
the Lord is the one who sustains me.
Psalm 54:4
Since he reads your blog, let me just say: Michael, learn to pack your stuff! I once had a roommate (post-college) who lined up all sorts of friendly, helpful folks to "help her move." When we got to her place, it looked like she'd just gone to bed the night before without putting any of *her sweat and effort* into it. There were many, many disgruntled friends that day. It was also the last time many of us volunteered to help with any of her moves. (True story.)
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ReplyDeleteTina - I'm sure Michael will say he packed his most important items...
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