I dropped my sister off at her university yesterday.
I only really thought about dropping her off twice, on Monday and yesterday. When I briefly thought about it Monday, I cried. It wasn’t because I was going to miss her, or anything forward-looking like that. It was because we spent a lot of time together and now those moments are gone. I won’t be able to go back to those moments when we were hanging out around the dinner table making fun of the stuff my mom or my sister said/did.
Yesterday, after we took her stuff up to her room and set up her bed, and after I broke her mug by throwing her bag around, we said good-bye and I high-fived her. On the way home, I cried again for the same reasons. Those moments I’ve had with her are gone.
I wasn’t really sad about her leaving because those college years are pretty great. They are a great time with half adult responsibilities, which is the best, and half real world problems, of which the less real world problems, the better. I wasn’t sad for her. I was sad for me.
It did remind me of when my parents dropped me of at St. Edward’s University a long time ago. I remember I was using that tape-to-ipod cassette thing and the last thing I was listening to before they dropped me off was Hot Hot Heat’s Public Service Announcement. They left me there for orientation, because it was has an orientation/move-in date, the earliest you could move in, which is why I chose that date for orientation.
But yea, that was my yesterday. It was a six hour drive to drop off my sister and fix a bed.
She’ll be alright. I don’t know about me.