Hold That Call

This is the month when college bound freshmen load up their parent's cars with new extra long twin bedding, laundry baskets, computers, and a suitcase full of clothes, as they finally make the move into their dorms, ready to take on all the realities of college life.

And colleges, in their quest to help students find community in their new surroundings, welcome the students with move-in help, special orientation programs that include events like karaoke nights, to assemblies in which they are told the virtues of the college experience.

But with all the preparation and admissions chatter over the last year and a half, it is easy to be blindsided by a shocking and unfamiliar sense of loss, change, emerging adulthood, and nervousness that this is even the right college.

Neither student nor parent is immune.

And in this day of internet connectivity and cell phones, there is hardly an emotion that isn't shared, if that is the student's inclination. Or parents'.

At the portion of orientation that was for the parents, we heard from a parent's council on how to navigate the first year your child is living away from home. In one case, a mother described the daily, if not hourly phone calls she exchanged with her daughter during the first semester. In her friendly banter, she seemed to be outing the kids who look cool walking on campus with a phone on one ear. She claims most are probably talking to their moms and dads.

Really?

Do parents want their kids to be in such constant contact? Do we want to have to suffer with them if that is the case? Shouldn't they buck up a little, work it out, feel homesick, feel lost, but figure out how to cope? Isn't that why we didn't come racing to their cribs when they were infants, because we wanted them to learn to "self soothe?"

Self control is necessary at this point for parents and kids. I would love to call Hans and get every detail about his First Year Seminar group, his roommate, how he's configured the twin beds to maximize the tiny bit of space, and now that classes have begun, how are they?

But I don't. And he doesn't call us. God knows how much he's needed this separation from us, free to make uncensored decisions about how he keeps his room, when he studies, even when and what he eats.

When I looked at his dorm room I thought of a prison cell. As tiny as it is, (and I've heard through the blogosphere that he "sleeps in a coffin,") that dorm room is his release. He is as free as he's ever been.

As much as I yearn to hear all about his new life, I hope I don't, not for quite a while a least. Because I know that there will be days when he is overwhelmed, lonely, tired of the "coffin" and suddenly wistful for the easy days when he lived at home and was nagged to get out of bed. I know or at least hope, a day like that will be short-lived, he'll come around, and all will be exciting again.

A kid who isn't in the habit of sharing every emotion as it occurs will get to experience getting thru the moment, the day, or even the week. I have to believe he'll feel stronger for it, accomplished, and really, most importantly, independent and free.

For now, in these heady, early days following his departure from home, we are left with an empty bedroom, a messy, unorganized, disheveled room that has safely harbored our child from his very first days.

But we don't pick up the phone.