Headed North

I was teaching class this morning when the attic prisoner shot downstairs and began packing his car for the drive north back to school.  JT has been a trooper for all of the isolation, never complaining as he stayed up in the attic with his books, movies, and video games.  He never developed symptoms and tested negative in two quick successions after the positive test.  I am grateful that he wasn’t sick and glad that he gets to return to college life.  I gave him a hug and sent him north with his birthday presents - he turns 21 next month.  T and I have another week on our quarantine but it was nice for one of us to earn their freedom.

College Drop Off

Yesterday, T and I unloaded our car into JT’s Sophomore dorm. He did most of the work and consented to letting me make his bed, the sort of thing a mama like me feels happy about.

He’s there for two weeks of pre-season training for Cross Country; classes don’t start until after Labor Day.  It was much easier than last year’s drop off, though of course I burst into tears at the last minute and, unusually, was embarrassed by this development.  I’m a crier and have long ago made my peace with that fact so it’s unusual for me to fear crying in public.  I suppose it’s that I know there is nothing to be sad about.  He’s ready to return, and very excited about the coming Cross Country season, classes, his friends at school….all of it.  He has his routines and this year’s dorm is nicer than last year’s lodgings, with a lovely view over the lake.

We’ll see him at the end of September for a race and the text messages will flow.  I know he is in the right place and I’m so grateful for that blessing.  T and I head south this morning, grateful for a life together.  That’s happy!

College Man

JT’s first year at Springfield College wrapped up yesterday he’s happily home for the summer.  His room is once again the dark cave of boy town.  I did some cleanup work while he was away, though he’ll make quick work of messing it up again.  It’s how I know the right young man came home.

The end of this first year also means the end of his first year as a Division III college athlete.  The boy has logged in a lot of miles, first on the Fall Cross Country team; in the Winter and Spring he ran Indoor and then Outdoor Track, his first full seasons in those two sports.  We watched quite a few races and heard about all of them, nervously waiting for the race day report when we weren’t there to watch.  He made some good friends and had fun; every few weeks, he’d send me pictures of those friends.  He learned a lot and is excited by the course of study he’s chosen. I enjoy hearing about the things he’s learning; he enjoys sharing that news.

Last Summer, I nervously awaited his departure with little sense of what this next chapter of life would bring either of us.  As we both settled into our new habits it was reassuring that we found happy routines and traditions.  Those pictures he texted me showed me the face of a happy boy; one doing well. Seeing his face and feeling re-assured that he made the right college choice made the year much nicer for me.

Even as I celebrate the successful transition, I’m happy that he’s home again.  It’s nice to have his company and hear his laughter.  I enjoy cooking him meals.  We’ve both learned some things about ourselves in the last 9 months but I’m also reminded how some things don’t change: big as he is, he’s still my baby.

Of Course I Cried

Early yesterday morning we piled into the car and drove JT 3 hours north to Springfield College, where he will spend the next four years.  There was a pile of things one needs for college…..soft sheets and towels, a fan, laundry supplies, electronics, a metric ton of Cliff bars, running shoes and the paraphernalia of a runner, all of it surrounding my precious boy.  

The last few months have been a roller coaster of emotions as I prepared to send him off.  For the past month, I would look at him and find myself breathless with joy and pride in the young man he’s become.  These emotions were compounded by the realization that my daily life as a parent was about to change; this boy of mine will no longer rest his head in my home each night. In the last weeks, as the moments together grew more precious, I felt like holding on to every moment.

I cried at the very thought of separating from him and, as the day of departure grew near, I could no longer hide those tears from him.  Just looking at him was enough to make me cry.  But neither could I put those tears into words.  I’ll be sad not to see him every day, I will miss him (though, perhaps, not his voluminous laundry needs).  My house will be much more quiet. The cats will be at a loss for his presence.  I’ll miss making his supper and sitting together over that supper to share our days.  I’ll miss his presence.

But it’s time and he’s ready. He’s chosen a school with a community he’s excited to join, with academics that appeal to him, and a cross country coach who is pleased to have him on her team.  And if I had any doubts, they were answered on Sunday.  We unpacked his things and I made his bed (because of course I did) and then we hugged him and went on our way.  Two hours later he texted me this picture.

It's a photo of his running watch.  At college less than two hours, he’d gone on a a ten mile run with some of his new teammates.  He’s found his tribe and that is so very, very happy.