After a month-long winter break that started a few days earlier than expected (thanks to the start of a COVID outbreak on campus) and ended somewhat abruptly with a last-minute change in travel plans, our oldest is back at college again. The time flew by, but it also crawled at times. Four weeks, and just like that, it was over.
During his month home, H got a lot accomplished. He wrote four essays for his final exams, took his road test and finally got a driver’s license (2 years after being eligible), learned how to pump gas, spent three days in NYC with his high school friends, spent time with this grandparents, attended his brother’s basketball games, beat his cousins in the inaugural beer pong Christmas competition, and worked out a ton. He also slept until noon or later every day, logged countless hours on Xbox, binge-watched days worth of Netflix, Hulu, and HBO Max, fought/wrestled with his brother, and became our designated driver/errand boy.
Now that he’s back at school, the house is quieter, there are fewer shoes to trip over and less crap on the floor to complain about, all the dishes, glasses, and utensils are back in the kitchen, and I don’t have to share my basement gym space or phone charger anymore. The anxiety-filled/highly organized/somewhat selfish/recovering perfectionist side of me loves all that, but the sentimental mom side of me is sad he’s gone. I know it’s good from him, emotionally and intellectually, to be back at school, but I still miss him.
The good thing is, I know that by the time we find our groove again as a family of three, he’ll be home once again … just like that.
-LJDT
