I spent the week packing my son’s things for college. Tyler is my third to leave the nest, so it should be easy this time, right? Not so much. And yes, there are sudden inconsolable bouts of crying. Me, not him. And noted obsessive compulsive behavior… “What if he runs out of shampoo, I better get him two. What if he needs paper clips, sticky notes, index cards, staples… what if he needs RUBBER BANDS!” God, I think the only thing I brought to college was a hot plate and a can of soup.
I get teary as I fold his bedding, weepy as I pack snacks — he needs something to eat when he’s up late studying, don’t cha know? — and I think I even started crying when I packed his toiletries. What’s wrong with me? It’s not like I haven’t done this before!
Then suddenly I stop. And I think.
This kid is about to embark on the best years of his life. The friends he’ll make, the parties he’ll go to, the mornings he’ll wake up wondering what he did the night before…and the stories he’ll never tell me and I will never want to know. And, of course the education. Don’t forget the education.
I sit for a moment and take a stroll down memory lane. And I’m happy — just thinking about those years.
College isn’t just a time for education. It’s a time to cut loose. A time to get it out of your system before you enter the real world. Before you become a responsible adult with a job, a spouse, and children.
Just last summer one of my best friends from college (who happens to do stand-up comedy) told me he uses some of my college stories in his comedy act. To which I replied… If you EVER say my name (even when you’re touring another country), or TELL one of those stories when you’re in Syracuse — I will kill you. He already knew the rules. That’s why I love him to this day, and he’s still one of my best friends. I can only pray that Ty finds a friend like him in college.
So, now I go back to packing with a smile on my face. And I look at all of the stuff I bought him and I think… so what if I’ve packed enough to send him to say, Siberia for a year. That’s ok. I only have a couple days left to baby him, so I’m giving myself a pass.
Come Saturday, these will be the….wait, dare I say it? Yes, I’m going to use my potty mouth… these will be the best fucking years of his life! And I know, there’s something BIG in store for this boy! 🙂