Just two quick years after we dropped the boy off at college, it was time for our first daughter to follow suit. This is the one we always called “the easy middle child.” She is a peaceable person and very laid back about most things while also being very attuned to both her own emotions and those of everyone around her. She has always cried very easily (still does to this day), so we knew her drop off would be vastly different than what we experienced with our son.
Over the summer we shopped for blankets, pillows, comforters, and other necessities for dorm life. She seemed to enjoy the planning and preparing much more than her brother had. We bought coordinating throw pillows, art for the walls, a cozy chair and cafe lights for ambiance. While I was genuinely excited for her to move into the next season of her life, all the preparation was accompanied by that familiar sense of dread. I was living in the tension of knowing she was going to leave our home while simultaneously wondering how I could possibly watch that happen.
When move in day rolled around, we loaded our cars and her brother’s truck and made our way to campus. Samford is a beautiful school, quaintly nestled in Homewood, Alabama. On Freshman move in day, it is abuzz with energy and excitement as older students and volunteers help new students and their families unload everything and schlep it all up flights of stairs to their waiting dorm rooms. Setting up the room is a great distraction while you try to manage the flood of emotions you are working so hard to suppress.
Having learned our lesson the first time around, we decided to skip the big parent send-off event. We ended up at Chick Fil A for lunch, where I could feel our daughter’s emotional resolve starting to slip. I tried to act completely normal under the weight of her emotions and mine, but my resolve was not far behind hers. The longer we sat there the more desperately my brain screamed, “Don’t cry! Don’t cry! Don’t cry!” Her younger sister who had lost it when their brother went to college seemed fine during lunch. I think she was being stoic to protect our college girl’s heart.
We decided to drop her off in the same spot we had been dropping her off for weekly violin lessons at Samford throughout high school. I reasoned that would feel normal and not be as sad. With a ridiculous and uncharacteristic amount of pep, I gave her a big, happy hug while willing my tears away. She told us goodbye with just a little quiver in her voice but shockingly, no tears. Much later when I told her how amazed we were by that, she confessed she had a big cry after we drove away and a few more over the weekend of non-stop activities and high-energy welcome events that Samford calls Connections Weekend.
Our daughter’s transition to college was ultimately a little easier for me. Maybe that was because we had already experienced it once and were better prepared for the emotional shock and awe. Or maybe it was because she would frequently call while walking on campus and enthusiastically relay stories about her classes and her roommates. The excitement in her voice and the happy practice room selfies she sent let me know she was okay. So I was too.
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