It wasn’t cold out. She knew that. And yet…
Watching him pack was probably the most difficult thing she had ever done. Silently watching him as he prepared to leave her. She clutched the cardigan around her more tightly as a chill went through her.
“I--.” She swallowed hard, and tried again. “Don’t forget that envelope. You’re going to want…I put photos in there.”
He smiled weakly, “You didn’t have to.”
“I wanted to.” Then, more strongly, “I wanted you to have them.”
“Well…thank you.” He finished putting things into his bag then, carefully, placed the envelope on top. He looked up at her, “I think that’s it.”
Struggling not to show emotion, she responded, “Yeah. Looks like you got everything.”
He turned to leave. Stopped. Turned back. “Are you going to be okay?”
“Oh…sure,” she responded with a quavering voice. “Of course I will.”
“Well…goodbye.”
“Or…I could always go with you.” He looked at her, surprised. “I mean…I could drive you, or just go along to help…”
“We talked about this.” His voice was gentle. “My stuff is filling up the entire car. There’s barely enough room left for me and dad. Besides, the two of us will have an easier time bringing my stuff up to my dorm. It’s on the third floor, remember.”
“I remember.”
“And no elevators.”
She forced a smile, “Some fancy school we’re sending you to, no elevators.”
“It’ll be good exercise. No freshman fifteen for me.”
“No, I suppose not.” She took a deep breath. “Oh sweetheart, I’m going to miss you.”
“I’ll miss you too, Mom.” He hugged her. She hugged him back harder. He quietly said, “Parents weekend is in just a few weeks. You can visit me then.”
Pulling away, she said, “Yes. Of course.” She smoothed his hair down and picked non-existent lint off of his jacket. “My baby’s all grown up.”
“Maybe.” He smiled at her. “Dad’s probably waiting.”
“You’re right. I know. You should--” She took a deep breath and said, “Goodbye.”
“Not goodbye, Mom. Just…see you in a few weeks.”
As the door swung shut behind him, the chill she was feeling grew stronger. The house had never seemed so empty…so lonely…so large. She wandered around, surprised, a little, that the house was large enough to wander around in. Suddenly, she found herself in his room. She ran her hand against the pale blue walls. She could remember picking out this paint color when the ultrasound had told her that she was having a boy. She went over baseball window shades, that he had chosen (with just a little of her help) when he had decided that his previous clown shades were too “babyish”. She looked at the stars on the ceiling, a project they had worked on together. Each star was painstakingly placed according to a constellation chart, when he had been sure he wanted to be an astronomer.
The posters on the walls, the books, the games, the sports equipment, even each nick and scratch on the furniture…her mind flooded with stories surrounding each one. But he was gone now. Her little boy was grown. And the room was only a storehouse for the things he had left behind…things neither needed nor wanted in his new life.
She sat on the bed, clutched the pillow to her chest, and slowly rocked back and forth. And as she sat there, she tried desperately to convince herself that she wasn’t just one more thing that he no longer had a use for.