Carolyn and I committed that when our kids headed off to college that we would encourage them to adapt to the new life and resist the temptation, at least for a while, to return home. Since departing in early August, our first has managed to do just that – settling in comfortably to the collegiate environs. When we deposited him, we carried boxes and tried to help him settle in. Even as he tolerated our doting, it was clear that he was indulging us in our need and not expressing one for himself. He was ready. And we were still adjusting to the idea.
Weeks went by without a hint of melancholy from campus. Meanwhile at home, each day we’d pass his empty room without need for a reminder to make the bed or pick up a sock. For him, one can only speculate the many new experiences presented. For us, there was mostly quiet. His younger brother has filled the space, arguing creatively that he didn’t want to take over his brother’s slightly larger room but instead that we should remodel, removing the wall between the two for him to have a giant suite.
Ultimately our desire to see him – coupled with the growing list of “forgotten” items that required delivery – led to a Sunday trip for lunch and a visit. We even took the dog. And to his credit, our son hosted us. The stories flowed. His conscience was alive with possibility. His world had gotten a lot bigger. Watching our kids grow up is at once abundantly odd and entirely natural. They transform more quickly that our minds can process. Yet as we pulled away from his dormitory, our rear-view betrayed him as he stood and watched. He missed us as surely as we missed him.