As your child leaves for college...

Being the mom of twins has been great - there were only two negatives as they were growing up:  they got their driver's licenses on the same day, and they left for college at the same time, leaving me with an emptiness I never knew possible.  My boys are now married men, but this time of year always makes me think back to that August when I had to say goodbye.  The result is this column, and it is dedicated to all those parents who will lose a little part of their hearts as their high school grads become college freshmen.

College Boys

The driver's seat in my car stays in the same position.
I am not blasted by rock music as soon as I turn on the ignition.
There is a lot less food in the refrigerator; a lot less laundry in the hamper.
I don't trip on huge pairs of gym shoes in the mudroom.
My son's beds have been neatly made for over a week.
The phone has almost stopped ringing.
I fall asleep in my bed instead of on the couch.
I set the table for two instead of four.

We took our twin sons to two different colleges last week, and we haven't gotten used to the quiet.

There are dozens of pictures of them on the wall of the staircase- pictures from the day they opened their eyes to high school graduation.  We stop and look at them every day, smile and long for the sound of the refrigerator door opening, followed by "there's nothing to eat in this house!"

It's early September and I don't have any cross-country meets to attend - no yelling out my son's name or encouraging his teammates.  I didn't wake up this morning, sleepily pad down the hall, open their doors and say, "come on boys, time to get up."  I drive past their high school on my way to work and find it hard to believe they aren't there anymore.  Last night I didn't nag anyone to bring the cans and recycling out to the curb - my husband is the new garbage guy.

The boys' 12-year old Volvo sits in the garage, getting a bit of dust on top if its usual coat of dirt, robbed of all the CDs that cluttered the seats.  The posters that remain in their rooms look lonely without the ones that went away to college.  Their friends are scattered across the country, and I miss them all, their ready smiles, their incessant phone calls, their hearty appetites, their loyalty to one another.

We packed our sons off, one at a time, and made the trip we've dreaded for years.  They seemed fine as we headed back to the car - happy, excited, a little scared, a lot unsure, but very anxious to be out on their own, even away from each other.  We couldn't hold back the tears as we kissed goodbye, but at least we saved the sobbing for the trip home - the very long, empty trip home.

In a sense, this is all so ironic.  In my job, I edit several newsletters for a private college and one of them is aimed at parents of high school students who are going through the college selection process.  I've done well-researched articles on how to deal with saying goodbye, articles I wrote while weeping at the computer.  I know all the advice - i just have to follow it.

Well, I wasn't able to wallow in my missing the boys for very long.  The first phone call came the next day.  "Just checking in - my roommate's a cool guy, and oh yeah, I forgot my checkbook."

The following day:  "I lost my student ID."

Then the other son called:  "There's not much going on here.  How are you?"

The next day:  "I think I want my stereo here after all - can you send it?"

The following day:  "We got a refrigerator so now I'm low on cash.  How do I cash a check?"

Back to the first son:  "There's something wrong with my computer.  The cursor moves but doesn't do anything."

Then:  "I forgot my favorite shorts and can't figure out the clock radio."

And lately:  "This class is way too hard.  I'm trying to get into another one, if the prof lets me."

Little by little, they're figuring it out.  We welcome the phone calls, and we try not to call too much, but I suppose we do.  Email, instant messages and cell phones are bonuses our parents never had.  The frequent contact helps us, a lot.  I actually welcomed an email that included a three-page paper, the first written for a freshman rhetoric class.  "Please proof, Mom?" was the request.  Happily, there was very little to correct, and both his father and I were genuinely impressed with his writing.

We may both be experiencing a constant pain as we rattle around the house, but we're also happy for them and excited as they begin this new adventure.  It's a chapter for us, too.  We can stay out late, take off for a weekend, see a play downtown in the middle of the week - all without worrying about getting home to the boys.  But "getting home to the boys" always gave me a good feeling inside.  even as they came home from school each day, hearing them stomp up the front porch steps, I eagerly welcomed them back to the next.

One son doesn't call or email as much as his brother.  I think he really wants to assert his independence, experience being out on his own, calling his own shots.  But he's the one who, when he does call, is concerned that I'm OK  - as if their leaving home and leaving us all alone is such a traumatic event that I might need medical attention.  It may have been the not-so-silent crying he witnessed a few times during the weeks leading up to the day he left - spurred by a sappy commercial or TV or a baby picture in an album, or more certainly when he left his treasured teddy bear in my care.  At least he had the compassion to put his arms around me and tell me everything would be all right.  I do so miss his spontaneous hugs.

I know the boys talk to each other fairly often.  That separation can't be too easy for two who have been together all their lives, save for a week-long service trip here or a golf camp there.  As they said their goodbyes that morning in the kitchen, they parted with, "I love you, Bro."  As if it was ever a question.  Despite the miles that separate them, they are still each other's best friend.

My friends who have been down this road before tell me it only hurts at the beginning and that the freedom a couple rediscovers in an empty nest is invigorating, rejuvenating, and fun.  We've yet to experience the delirium (two night ago, my husband and I were asleep by 9:30), but we're working at it.  We have home improvements to work on, new restaurants to try, golf to play and weekend vacations to take.

We can handle this...we'll get there...we'll be okay...after all, it's only three and a half weeks until Parents' Weekend.