Hi All,
If you have a child (or are a young person) who is moving into a crummy apartment or college dorm in Boston, Massachusetts, you know about it.
Move-In Day.
It’s the day, usually around Sept. 1st, when all the young adults make their way into the big city in cars chocked full of clothes, televisions and computers, tiny refrigerators, Salvation Army furniture, and anticipation.
I truly believe going to college in Boston and experiencing Move-In Day is a rite of passage. You get to witness an emotional dance of growing children, landlords and rental offices ($1700 a month gets you what?), anxious parents, roommates, and apartment doors that might not open.
And, a U-Haul stopped on Storrow Drive—which I actually saw as I departed Boston on Monday, and, years ago as a young 20-something, took part in by waiting on a friend who’s 13 foot rental truck got stuck.
It is a magical, horrible time to be in the city.
The lucky few moved in a week earlier and watched the ballet from an outdoor table while sipping on a nice, cold beer.
I thought I was going to sit this one out this year, as my youngest prepared for his last Move-In Day. But alas, on Sunday night, I got the call. Not everything was going to fit. So, my car (and I as the driver) would be needed.
I didn’t mind at all. I got to see his apartment and neighborhood (not as bad as I imagined). And I could enjoy it knowing this would be the last time I’d be doing this.
I even found a way to avoid the nightmare on Beacon Street near BU.
Like those late nights walking circles in the bedroom with his older brother softly snoring on my shoulder, I realized there would come a time when I would look back fondly at the moments I could share in my children’s lives.
Just another day for him. A bright memory for me.
Life gives us so few opportunities to cherish. Take what you can get.
And while this is perhaps too optimistic, it’s an enjoyable read:
Happy reading, happy writing,
David
David: I happily read your short and sweet post describing that dreaded day when you must help your nearly grown-up offspring move back to college. In retrospect, what I recall the most are the stairs. The stairs may be in a beautiful historic building curving upward toward a sunny dorm room with a view of trees but they're stairs and they must be mounted with crushing weight in arms, on shoulders, or shared with another. No wonder I'm in PT for back and neck. A much better memory: Loading everything back in the van for the last trip back to the house after a rousing graduation ceremony. Seriously, I like your brief, fun posts that so often give us much to think about and enjoy.