Son:
The night before my departure, I had packed all my belongings, shedding tears with friends under the glow of a streetlamp. I felt a mix of excitement and sorrow as I prepared to leave behind the suburb I had grown to know and longed to escape, heading to New York City. There were tearful hugs and promises to keep in touch. I was aware that this was the start of an ending for something I once cherished, but strangely, I didn’t dread it. Those tears were my final nod to sentimentality.
Mom:
I took one last stroll through Jake’s room to ensure he hadn’t forgotten anything. He swore he’d handle it, but some maternal instincts are hard to shake. Normally, his room was a chaotic mess of clothes, books, and various belongings I often wondered about. But today, with our journey to college 1500 miles away, it was surprisingly tidy. All that remained were the usual collection of dirty glasses and empty snack wrappers. Jake had hoped his dog, Max, would spend one last night with him, but after a restless night, he returned home from saying goodbye to friends, clearly unable to sleep. To distract ourselves, we took a late-night drive to a 24-hour Walmart for something he needed. I can’t recall what it was; what mattered was that we were moving, which kept us from overthinking.
Son:
The next morning, standing in the doorway of my room, I searched for a sense of closure but found only emptiness. Turning off the light felt strange. Saying goodbye to Max was odd; I had known him since I was five, but the farewell was surprisingly easy. I found myself contemplating why it was so simple to part with the people and things I held dear. My parents and I drove to the airport, my mom chattering away the whole way.
Mom:
At the airport, Jake chose a tuna salad sandwich for breakfast. How did he find the only tuna salad sandwich in the terminal at 6 a.m.? I tried to make small talk, while my husband, who had wisely gone to bed early, joked in his sweet, corny way, striking a balance between humor and seriousness. We were both attempting to keep things light, yet deep down, we knew we were facing a significant moment. Jake was our youngest child; it was hard to ignore the weight of that reality.
Son:
After we navigated through security and boarded the plane, I absorbed my dad’s quiet smile alongside my mom’s animated chatter. I realized that silence can convey just as much as words, sometimes even the same message. I felt my parents’ struggle as they prepared to say goodbye to their youngest son. That sensation lingered as we unloaded my belongings in my dorm and during our farewell in the parking lot the next day.
Mom:
After the chaos of packing and settling in was over, it was time for my husband and me to depart. Having gone through this process with our oldest son twice before, I thought I was prepared. However, the distance this time was more daunting. My mother and brother lived just an hour from my oldest son’s school, but this time there was no family nearby to offer a comforting meal or a familiar face. I was bracing myself to do something no new mother imagines: walking away… or rather, flying away. How could I leave this boy who had brought me immeasurable joy and who I had nurtured, letting him slip away just a little more each year? I handed him a coin with a lucky clover engraved on it, urging him to keep it close and to pull it out when times got tough. At that moment, our eyes locked, and I noticed a glimmer—was it a tear? I wasn’t sure until he enveloped me in a hug. Then it was a group hug with his dad. I told him I loved him and believed in him; I hoped he truly heard me.
Son:
It was only at that moment that I felt the weight of goodbye. I hadn’t anticipated how difficult it would be, especially as I looked forward to starting school. Reflecting on it, I realized it was hard to say farewell to my dog, my room, and friends too. Then my parents left. Just like that. Or perhaps I was the one who departed. Guilt washed over me as I walked away, turning toward campus, hearing their car drive off.
Mom:
As we drove away, I caught a final glimpse of the boy he was, and the first impression of the man he was becoming. A lifetime of love— I hope he understands it’s everlasting.
Son:
Over time, I came to understand that the initial ease of saying goodbye stemmed from knowing that nothing is truly gone. My family, my dog, my room, and my friends would always remain in my thoughts and heart. If I felt that way, surely they did too. And with that realization, it became easier to embrace this new chapter without wondering why it had been hard at first.
In summary:
A mother and son navigate the emotional journey of college departure, sharing reflections on goodbyes, love, and the enduring connections that remain despite physical distance.
Keyphrase: “departure for college reflections”
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