Getting My Bird Ready

I think my son may move into his dorm, with his stuff in sacks. His room is a mess or at least I think it still is. I haven’t been up to look at it the last few days. It’s kind of stressful on any average day to see how he and his brother function in there. It’s the largest bedroom in the house. 
We’ve had huge sleepovers in there with wall to wall inflatable mattresses. The teen years have been hard on the room. It’s part man cave, part locker room, part crash pad, and oh God, with the tumbler cups and snack wrappers — part kitchen. 

I had this systematic way of getting my daughter prepped for college. And sill it was crazy packing up our Dodge Ram on Freshmen Move-in Day. The new stuff was lined up and ready to load. It was her personal belongings and everyday stuff that wasn’t a thought until that morning. 

This guy is so independent and low drama, he simply wants to do it. Do what? Does he know? I keep writing about him. I was thinking about taking Friday off to do everything for Saturday move-in. But, what if I look up and he’s doing a finale hang with his friends door? I could be home, standing in the door way of his bedroom? 

I’m reminded of my son at age 5, who felt like he could do everything himself and knew how to do everything. He would tell us, “…because I’m 5!” I feel like this week there’s a 5 year-old inside his manly body, that’s saying I can do it myself, “…because I’m going to college.” 

Lord, show me how to help him stand-up on the nest and have room to spread his wings. 


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