The college kid is back on campus, and while he’s four hours from home, we’re only a text message apart (or cell phone call if there’s a real emergency).
So heading back to college doesn’t carry the weight of “good-bye” that my college days did. I had a dorm phone on the wall that placed calls to Kenneth only when used with a prepaid calling card.
There were letters home, written in pencil lead on U of M stationery (yes, paper — sent with a postage stamp), but they carried heavily filtered happy news of good grades and internship opportunities.
The pencil and paper didn’t convey the struggles of sleep deprivation, juggling jobs and homework and the sometimes regrettable weekend choices or spring break details (we wouldn’t want Mom and Dad to worry.)
Yes. Parenting in the digital age allows better, more frequent communication with the added bonus of stalking our children on social media.
A quick text, “How was your day?” if sent at the right moment, can offer a priceless glimpse into the inner workings of the college kid’s life.
The frequent contact makes parenting easier, and therefore so are the good-byes.
Which get easier with each subsequent return to college. In our case, it’s the third return following the third summer home.
And by “home,” I mean, his stuff was here, his pickup came and went, groceries disappeared and laundry showed up regularly.
Beyond that, we rarely saw him between a job, weekend outings and evenings at the gym or with friends.
Which means we can’t really miss someone we rarely saw in the first place.
Despite his fleeting summer presence, most nights he was home under my wing at the end of the day — another chick in the nest.
And that felt good.
And so did the hugs, which I requested daily — often after he arrived home in the dark and I’d rush to catch him between the front door and the stairs down to his room.
He’d roll his eyes, open his arms and hug me back.
This, as all parents know, cannot be digitally communicated.
If hugs could talk, the son’s arms would probably say, “Don’t worry, Mom. I’ll be OK,” and the mom’s hugs would say, “I’ve loved you every moment of your life, and it’s really hard to let you go.”
Truthfully, if Mom’s hugs could talk, they would deliver long, detailed sermons about the dangers of sex and alcohol on campus and the importance of keeping up with homework and choosing friends wisely and making responsible choices.
The list would go on, as long as the hug would last (or as long as the son’s arms would tolerate it).
But hugs can’t talk.
So the audible words are simple, “I love you, kiddo.” And so is the response, “I know, Mom. I love you, too.” (Sigh, eye roll).
Which will have to hold Mom over until the next time the college kid returns home.