The Dropoff

I was worried that TW and I would be quivering wrecks when we dropped off TB at his dorm. We weren’t. It was actually a mostly happy occasion.

Part of that was timing. We drove down on Thursday, staying over Thursday night before the Friday afternoon dropoff.  On Thursday night after dinner, we were able to have our big, emotional moment. TW told TB that she’s proud of what a good man he has become.  I let TB know that I’m most proud of how he treats other people, and that I hope he never loses that. What happens with professional plans happens, but he has control of how he treats others, and I couldn’t be prouder of how he does that.  

He mentioned that the hardest part of leaving the house for the last time was saying goodbye to the dog.  We know that he won’t be back for months, but the dog doesn’t understand that. Knowing that she doesn’t understand makes it harder.  (My Mom came up to stay with TG and the dog while we were away, so TG could go to band camp. It was the right call.)

For the last few weeks, and especially the last few days before the dropoff, we were focused entirely on the loss.  TB has been a conspicuous presence in the house for the last eighteen years. Up until the dropoff, the loss was concrete, but the gain was abstract.  That made the thought of the loss much harder.

But when we got there, and saw how happy he was to be there, and how well he got along with his roommate, and how excited he was to jump into everything, we could suddenly see the gain.  

He’s where he’s supposed to be. He can’t wait to get started. He has a goal, and a friend group, and a remarkably positive attitude.  

His roommate’s Mom is a genius. She took one of those hanging shoe bags -- the kind that hangs off a closet door, with about twenty pockets for pairs of shoes -- and put snacks in each pouch.  That means they literally have a wall of snacks. One parent to another, I had to tip my cap.

Through various social media, TB and his new roommate got acquainted over the summer, and even managed to meet in person at one point.  That was quite a change from my college days, in which I met my roommates when I moved in. One was a surfer dude, and the other a linebacker.  We were cordial, but that was about it. The new way is better.

Working in higher ed, I’m acutely aware of how many students don’t have their basic needs met, let alone a wall of snacks. I’m glad that we’re able to give TB a chance to focus on his classes without worrying about meals. My hope for public policy is that every student can study without that kind of distraction. That, and more reasonable tuition.

Since returning, the house is a little quieter. The dog has already gone into TB’s room a few times, looking for him. TG is starting to lay claim to his room, piecemeal. She’s a champion debater; I like her chances.  Sunday’s groceries didn’t include his usual bag of apples. TB has been known to leave his laundry in the dryer for days at a time; I was half-expecting to see it there on Sunday when I went to do mine, only remembering afterwards.  It will take some adjusting, but we’ll get there.

Godspeed, TB.  We’ve got your back, but it’s up to you now. You got this.