Movin' Out (Anthony's Song) plays on the speakers in the overstuffed van with what will be all of my belongings for the foreseeable future. Personally, I think it's a hilarious topical song, but no one else in the car seems to find it amusing. Trying to make eye contact while singing it obnoxiously is not helping my case. We are on the way to welcome weekend for my freshman year in college. The participants of my move-out procession include my sisters, Mom, and Dad. The spirits seem high and the conversations are flowing, but there's an underlying tension that no one really cares to address.
I’m also having trouble comprehending my feelings. The car ride feels like any other time with my family, and we are all enjoying it. However, there's an uneasiness in my stomach that I can’t shake. I try to assure myself that it's excitement for the start of something new, and it is, but I also know deep down that it's fear of the unknown and the finality of these simple moments that I have with my family. Eventually, the song stops, and I have nothing else queued up. I’m able to suppress my mixed emotions by saying things that aren’t quite jokes, but more like statements that are crafted to get a reaction.
I announce to no one in particular, “I sure can’t wait to start smoking cigarettes in college”.
When no one responds, I press my point further, saying, “Not only are they good for me, but I will also look cool, and offering them to strangers is a very easy way to make friends.”
My mom finally responds with a simple “You’re not going to start smoking cigarettes”.
“Yes, I am going to start smoking cigarettes, because that's what happens when you go to college.”
My Dad changes the conversation by asking, “Do you know where the church is that you’ll be going to around campus?”
I respond “Yes, it's right off campus” to end the interrogation.
Content with my needling for the moment, and wanting to avoid further church conversations, I retreat back into my thoughts and watch the landscape pass by in the window. I try to imagine what college will be like, but I struggle to conjure a clear picture of the next four years of my life. The unknown is always very hard for me to grasp until it becomes known, and then it feels like it's always been around
After this, the car ride is pretty uneventful. When we arrive at my soon-to-be college, my Dad goes with his usual immediate first plan of action, asking someone for directions, even though every one of us has a phone that could show them on the van’s dashboard. There are students working who are obviously there to help the Freshmen and their families with the move-in process, but the act of rolling down a window and asking for directions always makes me feel like I want to be somewhere else.
The person my Dad apparently finds the most fitting to ask just so happens to be a majorly attractive student. The act of slowly pulling up to her and rolling down the window sends chills down my body.
My Dad cheerfully asks in a way that only Dads can do when asking strangers for directions, “Could you point us toward College Green? We are moving our youngest, the baby boy of the family, into his college dorm today.”
All I can do is slightly smile and hope I don’t look as embarrassed as I feel.
The girl answers nonchalantly in the mechanical way of a worker, “Of course, that's just up the road and take two lefts. There will be signs on where to go that you can’t miss. And if you do, just look for the other students wearing these shirts, and they will be able to point you in the right direction.”
My Dad says, “Thank you, have a great day,” and we continue toward my dorm.
I am just thankful to get out of there. I wonder to myself if situations like these are my Dad’s way of getting payback for all the times I’ve intentionally or unintentionally annoyed him. If so, then well played.