Returning Our Hoo

We schlepped TB back to Charlottesville for the start of his sophomore year. Whether that turns out to be a good idea or a bad idea remains to be seen, but he was excited to go (and equally excited to get away from home). All of his classes this semester will be online.

We packed so much stuff that we had to take two cars. That meant that each of us got some extended windshield time with each kid. That doesn’t happen as often as it used to. Getting that much one-on-one time with each kid, when the phones are down and there’s nothing to do but chat, is a gift in itself. On the drives back, we each got some windshield time with TG, who is an amazing travel companion. She combines a raging intellect with the cultural and historical frames of reference that come with being 16. She considers me quaint but endearing. I’ll take it.

On the way, we stopped by my brother’s place outside D.C. to see him and his daughters. They’re younger than TB and TG, and I don’t get to see them as often as I’d like, so there’s a time-lapse quality to the visits. They’re growing into themselves, which is fun to watch. They’ve also inherited variations on my brother’s sense of humor, which I consider a gift to the world. He’s working from home these days, and his daughters will be doing school online this fall, so they’ve redone their basement into a sort of office warren. It has three desks, each of which comes equipped with headphones for drowning out the noises from the other two. The office artwork is very much their own. I was impressed.

The Charlottesville housing market is such that we had signed a lease on his apartment in the early spring, before the pandemic hit. It’s technically off campus, but it’s almost entirely populated by students, and the management treats it accordingly. They designated “move-in days” based on the floor on which the student’s apartment was located. We got Wednesday.

Even with people wearing masks, though, there was a palpable buzz of excitement in the building. Watching parents unload SUVs while their excited and slightly impatient kids called the shots was somehow reassuring; it felt like an annual ritual.

It’s easy to forget the appeal of a college town when you haven’t lived in one for a while. One of the best aspects of living there is that nearly everything is walkable. He doesn’t have a car, but that’s not nearly the issue there that it is at home. The university and the city both have bus systems, even if they’ll be drastically reduced in the name of social distancing. Visiting for the day, just walking around the city was glorious. Yes, we can walk around our neighborhood, but it’s not the same. Here it’s just houses; there, it’s a lively city.

Last year TB lived in the dorms, so he didn’t have a kitchen. This will be his first time having to (mostly) cook for himself. We’ve taught him a few things and given him an unambitious cookbook, but I expect some trial and error. He has to share the kitchen with three roommates, so I expect a certain level of chaos in there. It’s part of the experience.

(He didn’t have the latchkey-kid-of-a-divorced-mom cooking experience that I did, but on balance, I’m OK with that.)

Unpacking his stuff was about as much fun as unpacking stuff tends to be. We met two of his roommates, both of whom seemed cordial. Shortly before we left, I heard a knock at the door and opened it to discover a young woman asking brightly “Is TB here?”

He’ll be fine.

I’ll admit some trepidation about sending him back. He was safe here, I think, and I’m not sure how safe he’ll be there. College students, left to their own devices, have been known to congregate. But at some level, I could see that staying here would have crushed his spirit. He wants to fly, or flop, of his own volition. As well he should. He was a good sport about spending the last five months at home, but he clearly wanted out. I respect that. Here’s hoping it’s the right call.

Good luck, TB! It may not be the semester we all expected a year ago, but it’s yours. Enjoy.