If you follow Dixie Travels on Instagram, you know we spent the last part of July exploring Spain. It was the most wonderful trip, but let me tell you… next time I’ll plan a vacation a little earlier in the summer.
We arrived home to senior year kicking off for Whit, twelve days’ worth of work waiting on my desk, a healthy dose of jet lag and the inevitable mountain of laundry. I was just beginning to feel like I might catch my breath when the phone rang.
It was John.
His apartment keys were due back by noon on Friday. Only two of the four roommates had been living there over the summer, John was gone nearly twelve hours a day between his internship, commute and the gym, and his roommate was balancing finals with a night job. They had reached the point where they realized they simply weren’t going to get it all done in time.
So I did what moms do. I cleared my Thursday calendar and headed to Auburn.
I’d secretly hoped move-in this year would include a couple of nights at The Laurel like we’ve enjoyed the past two summers, but there simply wasn’t time. As disappointed as I was to miss that little tradition, the whole experience reminded me once again why I’m so grateful for the career I’ve built. Twenty years ago, there is simply no way I could have picked up and driven to Auburn on a random Thursday. Now I can, and I don’t take that gift lightly.
Honey was able to shift his schedule and work from home that day, so we were out the door before sunrise. He spent most of the drive taking conference calls while I sat beside him making lists in my notebook, trying to think through everything we needed to accomplish before turning around and driving straight back home.
The apartment clean-out itself wasn’t particularly exciting. We packed, cleaned, hauled furniture, sorted belongings and somehow managed to return the keys before the deadline. It wasn’t glamorous… in fact, it was disgusting… but it felt good to help him close one chapter before beginning another.
And what a chapter this next one is. John has officially moved into the fraternity house for junior year. If that isn’t a college rite of passage, I don’t know what is.
I’ll admit, I was pleasantly surprised when I opened the door to his room. It was surprisingly clean. I honestly don’t know whether it had been unoccupied for the summer or whether the previous resident happened to be unusually neat, but I dusted, vacuumed and wiped down the baseboards without ever dirtying a single Clorox wipe. I’m fairly certain I couldn’t say the same thing if I did that in my own bedroom. (The kind of before… and YES, we got him a new battery for the smoke detector after it drove us crazy chirping.)
The hallway, however, was exactly what you’d expect from a fraternity house in August. Pizza boxes, takeout containers and enough miscellaneous debris to make me instinctively reach for a trash bag. At one point I suggested buying a hallway trash can, which earned me a look that clearly said, “Bless your heart, Mom.” I decided to let that battle go and bought bug spray and bug traps instead. That felt like a wiser investment.
The room itself is actually a great size for one person. The bed is lofted, and the previous resident left behind a double recliner that fits perfectly underneath, creating a cozy little seating area. We wrapped LED lights around the inside of the loft, which gives the space a fun glow in the evenings. Those lights had been sitting unopened since last year, so I was thrilled to finally put them to good use.
One thing that made me especially happy this move-in was realizing we didn’t have to buy much of anything. The television had already been rescued from our house when Honey upgraded the cabana TV earlier this year. The coffee table came from our attic and is more than twenty years old, having lived in our previous house before eventually finding its way to Auburn. I couldn’t resist reminding Honey that this is exactly why I insist on hanging onto well-made furniture.
His desk has now served him in his apartment and the fraternity house, and the desk chair is entering its third year of college. The rug, bedding and most of the artwork all came from last year’s apartment. We added only a simple shoe rack, a few towel hooks and, apparently, a Freddy Krueger poster that I certainly didn’t see coming.
The lofted bed is another story altogether. It looks great, but making it is an Olympic event. Between the three of us, I think we each hit our heads on the frame at least once. I suspect sheet-changing day won’t become a favorite pastime.
His mini refrigerator, which he received for Christmas last year, fits perfectly beneath the loft. I stocked it with the meal prep we’d made over the weekend, plenty of snacks and, naturally, a fresh loaf of sourdough from home. Somehow a loaf of homemade bread always makes a place feel a little more like home.
The closet is large enough to hold his camping gear, and tucked inside is another favorite piece from our family. His dresser originally belonged to Honey as a little boy. Later it became Whit’s nursery dresser, then moved to John’s apartment and now has landed in the fraternity house. I love furniture that tells a story.
All of the decor and rest of furnishings came from his first two years on campus.
Before heading home, we sorted everything from the apartment into three piles: save for Whit next year, save for John next year and donate to the fraternity house. It felt good to simplify and know so many things would continue being useful. We went with a car full and came home with a different car load :-)
As I drove away, I couldn’t help but think how quickly these college years are passing. It seems like yesterday I was making his dorm bed and wondering if he’d remember to do his laundry. Now he’s settling into the fraternity house for junior year with furniture collected over three different homes and enough meal prep to get him through the week.
Time has a funny way of sneaking up on you.
By the time we pulled into the driveway, I was exhausted, a little sore and more than ready for a long soak in the tub. I was also incredibly thankful for a giant bathtub, a fresh bar of soap and enough hand sanitizer to decontaminate whatever I may have picked up from one sophomore apartment and an entire fraternity house.
But more than anything, I was grateful. Grateful that when my boy needed help, I got the call. And grateful that I have the ability to clear my calendar and show up. I know those opportunities won’t last forever, and I don’t intend to take a single one of them for granted.
Here’s to junior year. War Eagle, son.
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