Back to school

I remember several years ago when I first dropped my daughter off at the overnight camp bus. I wore large sunglasses to camouflage the tears that were certain to pour down my face. Imagine my surprise when the bus pulled away, and moms and dads began to applaud, cheer, and actually skip to their cars. I was amazed. Certainly I've always yearned for adult time with my husband, wanted to stand in the doorway and gaze at a teenager's bedroom that could double for a "pottery barn" ad. You know what I mean: pressed sheets pulled tight, comforter spread nicely on top of the mattress, pillows plumped in their shams, coordinating shades drawn just so, books lined up carefully on shelves, dirty clothes in the hamper, CD's arranged in their towering holder. The truth is far from this scene. In reality, wet towels are tossed over the floor, sweaty t-shirts lie in heaps, as books, papers and discs rest here and there. The bed is definitely rarely made and the shades hang at crooked, almost jaunty angles. As I pulled onto my son's college campus last weekend, I felt like I was part of a wagon train. Station wagons and SUV's were filled to overflowing with music systems, book shelves, computers, duffles, bikes, and bedding. Every once in awhile I would see a mom or a dad stranded on a street corner, sitting on top of a pile of blankets and throw pillows. Perhaps the vehicle had already been unloaded, parked, and the move of all the stuff needing to go into that tiny dorm room was in process. I've had lots of seasons of moving kids here and there, but this passage, the one in September when summer ends and we're rolling into fall, always seems bittersweet. Yes, he is where he should be and I do need stretches of quiet time in my study to discipline myself to focus and write. But that quiet is so palpable. No other cell phone is ringing, no other music is playing, and no extra car keys are strewn across the kitchen counter. His bedroom looks like the shrine of a high school boy and yes, it does finally look like it could be a page out of a catalogue.