My Boy Has Moved Away to College . . . My Boy Has Moved Away to College . . .

My Boy Has Moved Away to College . . . My Boy Has Moved Away to College . . .

My Boy Has Moved Away to College . . . My Boy Has Moved Away to College . . .

 

Saturday, 8/29/15

 

I anxiously paced around the house this morning.

My son’s friends have been peeling off one by one to leave for school. He’s the last one left standing. Today, finally, it was his turn. Time to get this show on the road! I’m terrible at waiting.

My boy has moved away to college.

Wait . . . what?

My boy has moved away to college.

He no longer will be holed up in the dark, dank, clothes-strewn ghetto that is his bedroom. This is a fact that I have to accept and repeat to myself occasionally. Like, well, 227 times a day, to actually have it sink in.

To become my new reality.

I was ready for the big move. I really was. The big shift in our lives. The big college-bound exodus that we had been planning for the entirety of Logan’s high school career.

And, the thing is, he’s only 45 minutes away.

We got off easy.

Piece. Of. Collegiate. Cake.

When the time arrived to head to Evanston, all four of us hopped in the car with simulated glee.

After all, it’s an exciting time for Loge, so we should be happy, right? Why wouldn’t we be? Plus, the first couple of weeks of his time at Northwestern will be solely dedicated to NU band camp. He’s just in a temporary room, and he’s been to band camp many times before.

Band camp is fun! Heck, it’s downright frolicky.

Northwestern classes begin so late, on 9/21, that band kids, cheerleaders and football players all have to go and hang out at school for nearly a month in advance to be there for the football games played against other schools that actually have normal start times. I don’t know why NU starts so late. Perhaps it accommodates a large group of farm-bred academicians who have harvesting responsibilities well into September. Regardless, it’s not as if Logan is jumping head-first into classes. He’s simply blowing his horn. He and Little Boy Blue.

No biggie.

I mean, we’ll be seeing him again in a week for the first football game, and after that, a few days later to help him move to his real, “forever room”.

Wait . . . forever?

My boy has moved away to college.

My cherished son for whom we waited years and years. Ten long years into our marriage, actually.

And when he finally did arrive, we, like most other first-time parents, thought he hung the moon and the stars.

He was a whip-smart, tow-headed lad who had a smile or a kiss or a kind word for everyone he met. And then he grew taller and older and smarter and wiser (well, somewhat), and became someone whose hugs I adore, whose morals are solid, whose opinions I cherish, and whose mind I seek out when ideas often soar right over my head like wayward shooting stars, and I need an uber-intelligent wrangler to lasso the thoughts and pull them down to my level.

A few minutes ago I read a detailed article on the Iran nuclear deal. Try as I might, I couldn’t fully understand all that the author was trying to relay.

“Hey, Loge? . . .” I shouted up to his room, as I do a dozen times a day.

I paused. But there was nothing. No bump and shuffle and muffled, “Yeah, Mom?”

Wait . . . he’s gone?

My boy has moved away to college.

My boy has moved away to college.

My boy has moved away to college.

I know I’m not the only one whose oldest has headed to school. I know he’s not going to prison, or to war, or even to the East Coast. I know he’s very, very close. I know he’s having a ball. I know he’s purposely been a pain in my ass lately and I should rejoice in the respite. I know I could Skype him. I know this is where he’s supposed to be, that he’ll be poised to do wonderful things for our world when he’s done with school, and that he’ll be home for break very soon. I know that I’m not supposed to “cry because he no longer lives here, but rather smile because he once did”. And I know all about the damn “roots and wings”.

I know it all.

But a heart isn’t ruled by knowledge. It’s ruled by feelings.

And, at the moment, my heart is feeling more than a little shattered.

My brilliant, handsome, loving, irreplaceable boy has moved away to college.

That’s the new reality that I’m trying so very hard to comprehend, and hopefully, one day, will be able to embrace.

 

Loge band dorm 2

 

 

Written by Becky


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18 Comments
  • Debbie says:

    I feel for you Becky!!! All those who have gone before know just what you are feeling! Yes we know in our heads that it’s all good and right and yet our heart yearns for those precious times of just having our kids around. It becomes the “new normal” to have your college kids gone but then holidays and summer break are such a gift! Sending a hug your way……

    • Becky says:

      Thanks, Debbie. I think I’ll feel better once he’s in a dorm room that I can help him set up with all of his things around him, once he has a few minutes during the day to touch base, and once he begins classes. Right now they have him running ragged from 8:00 in the morning until 10 or 11:00 at night for band camp. He’s exhausted, and we’re left in the dark!

  • Carolyn says:

    Becky, you say, “I know he’s not going to prison, or to war, or even to the East Coast. How about Okinawa! My son left home at 17 for the Marines 32 years ago, found love in Okinawa, and never came back. Hope this doesn’t happen for you, but if it does, you know you gave him “roots and wings” and if he is happy, that’s what matters. But we miss out on so much with his family and that’s what hurts.

    • Becky says:

      Oh my gosh, Carolyn! I can only imagine how much that hurts. I’m so sorry you’ve had to suffer through that as a mom.

  • Laura Staley says:

    Oh Becky, I totally understand. It is so difficult for us Mom’s, especially when we were so involved in their lives and events throughout the years. They were part of our weekly entertainment. Like you, Trevor is not too far (2 1/2 hours) and we plan on attending his football games. However, it is the everyday interactions that we miss so much. Logan is a great young man and as you see his happiness at school, it is a comfort. After all, I have two big weeks on you. Watching them make new friends, fend for themselves, do their own laundry (ours is cut in half a week, lol), go to Walgreens because they need something, I sit back and think, boy, I guess I did a good job. He is so happy and I hear it in his voice. I am sure it will be the same for Logan. I just count the days till our next visit and embrace our time together so much more. Hugs to you my friend!

  • jim says:

    Wait – Logan is gone?? Kidding. Miss my boy so much.

  • Patty from MMC says:

    Those of us who have been there (your sister, Deb, and me just to name a few) totally understand it. When my daughter, now 38, left for college I still had two young boys at home and I still felt an awful separation anxiety. Then Dan left sometime later – still felt it. Now Brad’s away at class, still living at home, but I know that college is the “beginning of the end” ….. my full time parenting job is done and it’s only a matter of time until they finish school, move out, get a job, get married, have kids of their own, etc. etc. and all the while I don’t think I have gotten older, but my hair attests to the fact since I no longer bother to try and hide the signs of aging it reveals. It’s hard for moms. Not as hard for dads , since they didn’t have that intimate connection we have before birth. It does get better. But it’s never the same.

    • Becky says:

      Then my new mantra will be “embrace the difference.” Hmm, I wonder how long it will take me to internalize that? Check back with me next June. 😉

  • Catherine says:

    This makes my heart ache I don’t even have children. He’s going to do well and so are you.

    • Becky says:

      I think you’re right, Catherine.

      No, I know you’re right. Give me a couple of days, and I’ll be on the mend. At least partially.

  • Mary Lou Sandvik says:

    Dear Becky…..Oh No!….Your sentimental posting today is playing havoc with my tissue supply!

    But Logan’s a winner, and I too hope he will take good advantage of his Northwestern education to accomplish something (eventually) that makes this earth a better place to live. Heaven knows he’s got the ability. Tell your hurting heart to rejoice and be glad! You are sooo lucky to have a son like him. You and Jame have done a great job raising him and that in itself has to make you feel satisfied. Now get over to Walgreens to replenish YOUR tissue supply. YLM

  • Gail Calder says:

    Aww it’s rough and will be for awhile. After every break, your heart breaks again when they leave. But it does get better…I thought my heartbreak moments were winding down only to learn that after school they may actually move away for a career. So here I will go again when my little boy moves to Arlington. May as well be Timbuktu…..hugs for you and Jamin.

  • Lisa says:

    Hugs to you, Becky. My heart goes out to you, although my heart is pretty banged up, too, right now. Actually, my heart is pretty busy, working overtime, reminding me pretty much every minute that a piece of it was packed up with all of Laura’s college gear and has taken up residence in Rock Island. I don’t think she has unpacked it yet, but she knows that it’s there whenever she needs it.


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About Me:

Hi! My name is Becky. I’m a mom, a wife, a friend, a writer, and a compulsive thinker. Don't invite me to a spa or to shop the day away, but rather, make me laugh, engage me in interesting conversation, play a game with me, or give me a cappuccino and homemade vanilla bean flan and I’m yours ‘til the cows come home.

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