We live in a college town, and the energy shifts at this time of year. Townies enjoyed the relaxed pace of summertime, but we knew something special was missing. Classes start soon, and it’s time for the students to come back.
Sure, wait lists at restaurants get longer, and traffic backs up around campus. We know to avoid the big box stores for about two weeks because the lines are longer and supplies move fast. And somewhere in town, a parent is always standing in the middle of an aisle, staring at a wall of laundry detergent or storage solutions as if they have never seen any before.
There’s a buzz around town when school is in session. It’s part of the charm of living in a college town. We miss the students when they’re gone.
As we drove through downtown during the move-in dates, we saw the same basic group on every street corner: parents and students dressed in new T-shirts emblazoned with the university logo or mascot, often with bookstore bags in their hands, their heads on a swivel as they tried to get a sense of the change that came quicker than any of them expected. They may not realize it yet, but this is only a small part of a huge new beginning.
For the parents, this is the last time they’ll spend time with this version of their child. I don’t say that with sadness. It’s just that the story is about to change.
The next time they’re all together, that child will have become a young adult, complete with fresh ideas, fears, hopes, dreams, and disappointments shaped by experiences that can only happen when the world opens up. They’ll learn about people and loneliness. They’ll develop opinions that may make their parents question and wonder, too. And they’ll discover what they can handle on their own.
They won’t be completely independent, though. There will still be a series of random texts, a few “Just checking in!” messages, and the occasional late-night phone call when something has gone terribly wrong or wonderfully right, and a parent is still the person they want to tell.
A new relationship forms, maybe with some bumps before everyone figures out the new parameters. I remember the first holiday break that I spent at home during my college years. I was so happy to be home and to spend time in my own bedroom without roommates and constant activity around me. I craved the peace and quiet.
My mom, on the other hand, craved my attention. She missed chatting and hanging out. I wanted to close my bedroom door and enjoy the silence I’d been missing. She apparently saw that closed door as a personal invitation to turn that knob and walk right in. We had to relearn our boundaries and what was healthy for each of us. That’s part of growing up, too. It’s not just the student who changes. The parents have to figure out who they are in this new relationship, too.
Over the next four years, those students on the street corners with excited, frightened looks on their faces will evolve in ways they can’t possibly imagine. The nervous freshman will become the student who knows exactly which buildings have the best study spots. The kid who couldn’t find the dining hall without Google Maps will eventually give directions to someone else.
Some will fall in love. Some will have their hearts broken. Some will change majors, change friends, change their minds, and perhaps change their entire plans for the future. They’ll make mistakes. They’ll make memories. They’ll discover that being an adult means nobody is coming to remind you that your laundry is waiting in the washing machine.
They’ll learn how to advocate for themselves, manage their time, make decisions, navigate friendships, recover from disappointment, and figure out who they want to be. And somewhere along the way, their parents will figure it out, too. They’ll learn that being needed doesn’t always mean being directly involved.
Four years later, those same students will walk across a stage wearing a cap and gown. Their parents will take 9,437 pictures, probably cry, and wonder how four years could possibly have gone by so quickly.
When another August rolls around, we townies will see another group of students arriving. Another set of parents will be carrying dorm-room supplies, looking slightly overwhelmed and trying very hard not to show it. Another freshman will be standing on a street corner in a brand-new university T-shirt, holding a bookstore bag and looking around at a town that is about to become home.
And that’s one of the things I love most about living in a college town. We get a front-row seat to all of it. We don’t know their names or their stories. We may never know what happens after they leave our little corner of the world. But for a few years, they’re part of the rhythm of our town. And that’s pretty special.
sharing the stairs 