Third floor, corner room. Lofted bed, large window. Emily, our youngest, has a new home. We moved most items Friday, her music audition day. Then Saturday came. The sun was shining and the air was fresh and cool as my husband, Rich, Emily, and I pulled into St. Olaf for the final good-bye. First-year students and parents were everywhere, moving bedding, furniture, and clothing from SUVs to dorm rooms. To our delight, things were arranged to make move-in a breeze: we never felt hurried or had to wait. Parked just feet from the dorm door, we unpacked the last items — full-length mirror, laptop, clothing, quilt — and ascended the open stairwell to her new home on the top floor. Determined to do one more “mom” thing before she was officially
Our son, Charlie Hill, who plays trumpet in BU's Scarlet Band called us Saturday night from Fenway's Visitor's Clubhouse totally pumped to play for the Aerosmith/J. Geils Band concert. He was excited to be in Fenway, in the same room visiting baseball teams occupy (Charlie loves baseball). He was thrilled he'd met The J. Geils Band and had an all stage pass and ticket to the show in his pocket. But most of all, he was "wowed" to soon be performing at this highly anticipated, high profile event and in front of so many people. This evening of hometown boys entertaining the hometown crowd--Aerosmith and The J. Geils Band both hail from the Boston area--had Fenway sold out and ready to rock!
Sobbing in the Subway Line
“There is a lady in front of me at Subway who is crying hysterically because this is her last meal with her daughter. Awwww…”
Boston University returns to life after summer break. My son, who spent the summer on campus, watches her resurrection. Swarms of parents and students cart furniture, bedding and luggage up and down busy city streets. Parking lots spill packed-to-the-gills SUVs. The inevitable goodbyes vary: some happen with a wave and a smile; others, especially with the freshmen, take a different turn. In late August, the sight of sobbing mothers staggering through the streets of Boston, with its sixty-plus colleges, is common. My son's words, flashing across my cell phone screen, hit me hard and stopped me cold.