Earlier this summer, we were visiting my sister and her four children the day my college-bound niece was assigned her move-in date. I was half-listening to their conversation when I suddenly had a thought.
“Are you going to load up your tiny car with everything she needs for college?” I asked Maureen. “What if you can’t fit everything? What day is this happening? What do I have on my calendar that day…?”
The next thing I knew, I had offered to drive to my sister’s house in New York, load up our minivan, and drive her and my niece Eileen to her college move-in in Massachusetts. It would be lots of driving, but I grew up in a family that would spend 11 hours on the road in a single day to have a picnic lunch together. I have a skewed perspective on what is a reasonable amount of time in a car—and I’m OK with that.
I decided to bring our two boys for the trip to NY so they could have fun with their cousins, but also because I thought they would be a great distraction for Eileen’s younger siblings who would be at home for the day.
I know what it’s like to send a sibling away to school. I remember the August when Maureen left for college. I cried and cried. It was such a huge ending, a major change. I was so upset that my parents took me along to help with her move-in. And now I had the opportunity to help move her oldest daughter into college.
I was so excited.
I was also nervous we wouldn’t be able to go. If any of us woke up with any symptoms, we would have to back out. If something chaotic happened at work, I would have to miss the trip. Then I thought Hurricane Henri might get in the way. But the stars aligned just right, and the morning of move-in, we waved goodbye to the farewell committee of siblings and cousins on my sister’s front steps and headed north to her liberal arts college.
We got caught in traffic right away, but we refused to be discouraged. And when we arrived on campus, it felt as if we had arrived home. Thanks to COVID, Maureen and Eileen had never even set foot on the campus, though they had seen it on a drive through the campus earlier this year. But the sun was shining, the people were so welcoming—smiling behind their masks—and we found a parking space right by my niece’s residence hall.
The day couldn’t have gone more smoothly. Eileen’s room has the loveliest windows, and her roommate seems very sweet. I learned that there was a campus goose named Jorge and that the college delivered milk and cookies to the students every evening. Eileen seemed to slip right in, happily, confidently, and with her usual grace and poise.
I asked the new college student to pose for a thousand photos, and she complied, even when I insisted that we walk through the summer heat to get a selfie with a tiger statue. After a stop at the bookstore and a quick lunch outside, we walked to the car to say goodbye.
I had meant to say so many things to Eileen before I left—things like, “Have the best time. Make friends you’ll keep forever. Text me anytime. It’s OK to sleep through class. Grades aren’t everything. Take care of you. Don’t worry about making us proud because you already have.”
Instead, I just gave her a hug, said something pithy, and got into the car so she could say goodbye to her mom alone.
When I offered to make the trip, I thought I was doing it for my sister and her family. And I suppose I was. But I had the best time. And I have memories of our time together I will hold onto forever.
As this new chapter begins for this young woman, I feel so grateful to be part of the story in some small way. And I’m so excited for my niece and all she’ll discover about herself and others and the world. Oh, and the campus goose. Because of course she’s already found him and texted photos of him.
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