June 19, 1985
It has been more than 20 years since we left your college alma mater behind. Like many other memories some of those years have become a little fuzzy. I had forgotten what it was like to pack up and head for home until recently when we drove down to bring our daughter back from her freshman year at school.
Now we had taken her to the school in the fall so I knew full well she had a good supply of clothes, books, stuffed animals, appliances, etc. But I had put in the far reaches of my memory how many times she had come home only to return with added treasures.
For Christmas she had received a stuffed Care Bear, a nurse doll, (three guesses what her major is), a kitten and a life sized duck billed platypus. The last coming from a male friend who rooms at home and does not have to transport his possessions 150 miles twice a year.
We were fortunate in that the day before the trip grandma and grandpa bought a new mini-van. We decided to try it out for size!
Arriving at the school a little later than planned we began to load the luggage in the pouring down rain. Back and forth my husband and I trudged.
Three suitcases, the box with the stereo, several boxes of books and a bag of miscellaneous items later them room still looked as if you couldn’t enter it without the help of a shoe horn. We revised our packing plan and I stayed in the van (where it was dry), our daughter staying in the dorm (she’s a lot like her mother) and good old Dad carried out the rest.
I finished filling the large back area and started on the back seat. I put rolled up posters along the sides, pushed pillows in the corners, and tucked curlers wherever there was a bit of space. The memo board was jammed into a crack just as Beth said “I’ll have to get a new one this one won’t say up.” I was proud of myself as I refrained from asking why we were transporting it 150 miles to the trash can at home.
Finally, it was all in. There was just room enough for Beth to squeeze into the back seat as the sun came out and the rain disappeared.
But, one final duty was required before we left. I had to see the room she was assigned to for next year. Out we climbed pushing stuffed kittens, curlers and pencils back in behind us.
Beth informed me she would be in a suite of four rooms next year. She listed all the advantages of having the bathroom near by, of the small lounge to be shared by eight girls, etc, etc ,etc. “It is a little small,” she said as we approached the door.
Looking around the lounge, stacked shoulder high with boxes, I reminded myself that they too were moving out. I walked up to the entrance of Beth’s new room opened the door and met with a firm resistance. Peeking behind the door I found a dresser. According to Beth and the young lady sorting odds and ends on the bed it’s the only place the dresser will fit. “But we have big closets,” I was told.
“Great,” I replied, “why don’t you put the dresser in the closet.” As we made our way through the boxes, suitcases and bags back into the car I began to envision how we were going to fit everything into the new room. But it was a problem I worried about for only part way home. It was around Morgantown that I realized we had to get all of the items in the van back into her room at home and I began to pray fervently that her brother had remembered to move his drumset back into his own room.