What a difference a year makes
What a difference a year makes
And why the company you keep is everything
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It’s incredible what a difference a year makes.
This time last year I was counting the days, monitoring and evaluating the tenor of every text and call. September 6, 2022 marked nine days after moving Laurel into college and the missing was fierce. During the day when I worked, I left my phone ringer on, which was a big deal, as I otherwise always leave my phone on silent to avoid distraction. I also left my iPad open next to my monitor so I could be available for inbound FaceTimes.
This is what the scene looked like before we departed campus. (My deep and painful ache showed up months later since I’m a recovering emotional robot.)
The other reason I was fretting last year about September 6 was because it was Laurel’s first birthday away from home; the milestone of turning 18.
I did what I could from a distance. I sent a care package timed to arrive well before the 6th labeled, “DO NOT OPEN UNTIL SEPTEMBER 6!” I ordered a birthday cake from a renowned local bakery to be delivered to campus. I acted like a fucking lunatic when I called the bakery the morning of Laurel’s birthday to confirm the shipment and they said they couldn’t find the order. (It was a minor filing mistake; they had it.) I combed through my hot mess of a digital photo archive to find pictures of Laurel and her birthday cakes over the past 18 years and created an Instagram reel (below; click to play). I twisted my hands in worry and prayer, and hoped that in the short nine days since she moved in, she had made friends she was comfortable telling it was her birthday; that she’d have someone with whom to share a meal that day.
I shouldn’t have worried.
Sad as she was missing home at that time, the reality is, Laurel is our resident extrovert—charming, caring, an easy and fun conversationalist, a welcoming and bright beacon to which people gravitate. I started to unclench when I learned that she did, in fact, receive the birthday package. My jaw further loosened when the cake arrived on campus. I continued to fret on and off that day, until Laurel sent me a picture from a restaurant—a few new friends insisted on going out to dinner to celebrate her birthday—where there was some kind of firework shooting out of her celebratory dessert. Later, I smiled and further unwound at another picture, of the cake I sent being enjoyed in Laurel’s dorm lobby with a mob of new dorm friends.
Everything was OK. She was OK.
This year, for logistical reasons, we decided not to do a whole-family campus drop off. Instead, we executed a staggered send off, with Laurel saying her goodbyes to Jon, Violet, and our dog James on Sunday. She and I then drove and stopped in for lunch with her grandparents and great-aunt and great-uncle on our way to New York. And then Laurel and I headed down to a hotel and enjoyed a fun, relaxing evening together before getting up early the next day for move in.
I do think the staggered goodbyes made things a hell of a lot easier from a feelings management perspective. And our communication since drop off has been nothing like last year. I’m still responsive, of course, but my phone has remained on silent and my iPad has not been open for emergency FaceTimes.
Last year’s measures were not necessary this year.
In contrast to the above picture, here’s what the scene looked like before I departed campus to return home.
And the next day—Laurel’s first full day on campus—she took her final EMT exam and is now certified to help save lives in the great state of New York.
Trust is hard and necessary, indeed.
As for Laurel’s birthday, Jon had the smart idea of celebrating her birthday the night before we traveled out, complete with her choice of meal out (she opted for dim sum, an excellent choice!), a stack of presents, and a homemade cake (I made the fresh berry cream cake by Sally’s Baking Addiction—including the lemon curd—and it was spectacular). We sent a few small things by mail, to be enjoyed today. When I asked whether she wanted a cake again, she said she would think it over and discuss plans with her friends; eventually she said yes, that would be lovely. I asked if she would be willing to walk to the bakery and pick it up since last year the delivery logistics were confusing (given multiple campus entrances). She said no problem. And as it turned out, her roommate found me on Instagram a few days ago and asked if she could help with the cake pickup. This morning I woke up to a couple more messages from her about their celebratory plans for the day.
This communication from Laurel’s roommate is a shining example of the point I am about to make.
I am sitting here, on Laurel’s 19th birthday, not worried at all. And that is because of PEOPLE.
A year’s worth of experiences are in play, yes, but one of the most delightful and heartening things about Laurel’s college experience is her incredible group of grounded, down to earth, caring friends. Knowing well what it’s like to not have that kind of support as a young adult, and also hearing from other parents of college kids—mostly in scenarios where kids have found great community, and sadly, a few who have not—it’s clear that the company you keep makes all the difference.
I have said it a million times about the college experience, and I will say it a million times more. It matters less where a kid goes to school—in terms of the name brand, striving, “perfect school” (false) narrative. Instead, it’s all about, can your kid envision themselves being happy there? Can they find their people? Can they feel a sense of community and belonging that will buoy them through the ups and downs?
I mean, isn’t that everything for all of us? Isn’t feeling connected what helps us feel energized and also grounded? Isn’t meaningful human connection what we should be striving for in life?
I am just so grateful.
Happy 19th birthday to this kind, radiant, thoughtful, loving soul. I miss you in the best and happiest of ways.
P.S. For Friday’s paid community post, I am going to share an excerpt from the 85,000 word draft memoir I have written (but have not pitched or made any plans to publish yet). This excerpt was on my mind as it is related to Laurel’s birth story. If you are not yet a paid subscriber, click below to upgrade and you will be able to access the post on Friday.