You’re awoken by the harsh knocking of your mom's fist against the door, that without words announces its time to rise; who would have thought, that something that had become so irritating over the last four years would soon be missed in the next four days.
You get in your tightly packed car and start to drive, and with each minute of the 2 hour, 4 hour or 12 hour car ride, the thrill of excitement and the uneasiness of the unknown constantly interchange. As you pass your high school you see your last four years pass by. The football games, the failed tests, the aced ones, the laughter that rings loudly in your ears and the tears that were shed, are felt all over again. As you watch the humiliated incoming freshman try to walk away from his or her parent’s car without anyone noticing, you want to scream out, "Stop! Go back, give them a hug, tell them you love them and thank them,” because you know the bitter sweet truth being, that soon they wont be sitting in the seat next to you, telling you to turn the stereo down and change this, “rap crap,” no, they will be following you closely behind in another car that is packed full of the rest of your life; on your way to college.
The rubber four wheels of your car take a sharp right turn, a turn that no one prepared you for. The chaos floods your retinas, you watch as a swarming sea of futons, desk lamps, shower curtains, etc. are being yanked from their cars and ushered quickly up into a unfamiliar, cold, tiled, 20 x 30, white room, and in that instant you realize you are no different than that bright blue futon, getting lost in the crashing waves.
To your right you see a mother and daughter engulfed in each others arms, clinging on to the very last seconds before the dreaded goodbye, and on your left you see a father and son emotionlessly breaking the bond of a handshake, a bond that was truly never there. Your mind starts to ponder what will your inevitable goodbye that is scheduled to take place in the next few, short hours look like, but before you come to a conclusion, its smacks you straight in the face. Your mother lowers her sunglasses in hopes of concealing her true emotions, but the small glass tear walking slowly down her cheek reveals the truth, while your dad desperately tries to distracts himself with last minute details because he is in disbelieve of the mere fact, his baby has grown up. There is one last hug that’s felt, not physically, but emotionally, for those siblings already sent off, because for the first time in decades your parents will be driving home to an empty nest, and that leaves you with a sense of emptiness.
The engine cues the start of your independence, as the car fades into the distance, with it goes your sense of security. You make your way back up the stairs, step by step, a tactic that will be the bases of your next four years here. You collapse into bed, a victim of the tide, exhausted, beaten down, and heavy eyed but before you have a chance to take in all that today encompassed, college pounds on the door.
