The night before a boy goes to college

Well son, how we got here already I have no clue.

We've come so far on a journey that started on a January night in 2007, at a little farmhouse in Northern Kentucky. My water broke two weeks early. There was snow on the ground. Something we haven't been used to for quite some time, being Arizonans now. Your dad hit a coyote driving on the way to the hospital at midnight. I thought 12 hours of labor was excruciating. But that wasn't nearly the most painful thing for me these past 18 years. When I first laid eyes on my son, I didn't heed enough of the warnings everyone gave me to "enjoy this time." Because in what feels like no time at all, I'm now watching him pack up to go off and leave for college tomorrow. I don't think any mom will ever crack the mystery of how 18 years flies in a blink. It was only 18 summers. Only 10 Christmases for him with Santa. All the carpooling to practices and games used to drive me nuts but what I wouldn't give for one more soccer game sitting in that flimsy folding chair. I stare at his baby book tonight, mourning the end of his childhood and adolescence. I wasn't ready.

Tonight is your "last night" here under my roof. You pack up and leave in the morning to move out —albeit to a campus in state that's close by— but still achingly far from me, my boy. You don't have curfews anymore. You don't have anyone nagging you to do your homework, put away laundry or put your dishes in the sink. I remember the night my parents left me at my dorm freshman year. Although I too, was not far from home, it still felt like pure FREEDOM. I loved being able to do whatever I wanted without permission or consequence. One night freshman year, some dormmates and I decided on a whim to drive six hours to ST. LOUIS because one of them was homesick. This was back before GPS and probably before Mapquest, so God knows how we even got there or back or weren’t murdered for that matter. I'm not saying I want you to pick up and head hours to some strange inner city in the middle of the night just because you can, but if you do, please leave your Life360 on. Honestly, the spontaneous, fun things you do your first year in college are likely the most cherished memories you'll still savor decades from now. Yes, I hope you study hard, but I hope you have fun, too. I hope you make new friends but continue to cultivate friendships with the buddies you have had all these years. I hope you take care of your body and exercise and eat healthy but also, it's ok if you want to sneak out for ice cream instead of cramming for a test (ST. LOUIS made me do it) or to steal a whole cake from the dining hall to bring to your friend if they are having a birthday and missing home (ST. LOUIS again). 

I met your dad late in college, when he lived in a house with a bunch of roommates who loved him like the brothers he never had. I'll never forget his tidy room, where his blue Kentucky state flag hung next to his Notre Dame flag. He was always proud to share where he was from. He worked so hard, studying and acing everything he did. But he also loved his friends and he knew how to have fun with them (but in moderation, ok boy!) Your dad would have loved to see you off in the morning. He would have been great at all the moving in and logistics and knowing what you'll need and where you'd have to go on Day 1. He would have been prepared and everything would be so organized and boxed up meticulously. He would definitely not have been winging it, throwing a bunch of shit in garbage bags and trying to iron an old shower curtain at midnight (don't ask —it's a perfectly good curtain that still has much life to it!) I know he would think of everything so I wouldn't have to think about anything but the pictures I'll exhaust as soon as we set foot in Tempe. I have been saying this over and over for nearly eight years now. He should be here. He wanted to be here. He would have been so proud of you. He would have been so excited for you. He loved you so much and wanted to give you everything to prepare for this day.

I see your dad's Kentucky state flag sticking out of a box sitting in a mess of things on the floor for us to pack up in the morning. The same flag that hung on his dorm walls many years ago will now hang in your dorm here in Arizona that is coincidentally named Rosewood, which was the name of the street your dad grew up on in Kentucky. You always have your roots, boy. I know you'll never forget who you are, where you came from and WHO you come from. You have so much greatness ahead. Be confident and kind, be studious but fun, too. For me, it's the "end" of your childhood, but for you, it's an amazing beginning. I wasn't ready for this, no, but YOU are.

Good luck in college, and please shoot your mom a text every so often. Let me know if you are alive or in St. Louis or what.