Home from College

I have to say one thing about having my son, my first born, home from college for a day and a half: I love it and his room is already a mess. That's two things.

It's not that I am constantly unhappy when he is away at school. I know that he loves college and he is utterly enthusiastic every time I speak with him, or rather text with him, which he claims is every day. Or at least it feels that way to him. But the only way I can describe what it is like to be without him, after eighteen years of having him in my home and in my heart, is to refer to what it must be like to lose a limb. Sorry to be rather gross, but it's the best analogy I can come up with.

When he first went to school last fall, I was constantly aware of his absence. Like a phantom presence, I set the dinner table for four even though we were only three. I referred to South Park way more times than would be normal for a woman my age. I thought of jokes that he would make, especially when I did something that deserved to be laughed at. As time went by, I started to get used to it, as if having only one child at home was the norm. But sometimes I would feel despondent, without really having a reason to be.

Now that he is home, it seems so obvious to me what was missing. I can almost guarantee that within a week I'll be getting on his nerves. He has, after all, not been told to do his own dishes since Christmas break. And within a week his habit of leaving his dirty laundry, mixed with the clean, on the floor of his room will be driving me crazy. But his uncanny ability to make me laugh, his ever evolving intellect, his "chill" attitude and his capacity for watching four straight hours of ESPN Sports Center make me feel whole again. At least until he leaves for a summer job in California in three weeks, I have all my limbs in place.