Shane Is Going To College.
Shane is getting into colleges all over the country. Everyone – so far – wants him to join their campus, sleep in their dorms, eat their food, attend their classes.
Shane applied to college in Massachusetts, Pennsylvania, Maryland, New York, Vermont, Wisconsin, Ohio, California, Virginia, Illinois and Michigan. We’ve visited far more than those to which he’s applied, but these were the ones he liked enough to tempt with his credentials.
He’s heard back from 11 of the 15 colleges to which he applied, and every single one of them has accepted him. Nine of them have already presented him with very impressive merit aid offers; one has congratulated him but hasn’t sent the “package” yet.
Shane has his favorites, although I am not at liberty to say what they are. And of course, his decision will depend on how he feels after going back to visit those favorites. There’s still a (good) chance that he won’t get into all of the schools; there’s an even better chance that we wouldn’t be able to afford them if he does get in.
Sometimes, when the boys are in school and I am doing nothing, I stare at the chart of Shane’s colleges. I think about what he might do, where he might go. I plan (mostly in my head) for returns to the various campuses. I ponder his future career possibilities; I wonder about internships.
And then, as I am aimlessly pondering, something comes crashing in through the back door of my brain – something that I keep pushing aside, knocking to the ground, and ignoring. It’s a thought – a persistent, forceful thought that comes back no matter how often I pretend it’s not there. The thought says:
Shane is going to college.
I spend hours thinking about college, and finances, and his acceptances, the choices he has, the whole world at his fingertips. I spend days and weeks and years planning trips to visit all the choices. I love watching him having all the choices! It’s so fun and interesting and exciting!
I love thinking about where he is going, what he will be doing, visualizing his decision.
But Shane is going to college. He’s not going to be here anymore. He’s not going to be in his bedroom, deafened by the music in his headphones. He’s not going to respond instantly to my texts. He’s not going to come running down the stairs for dinner.
He can’t do those things because he’ll be at college.
I’ve spent most of his life planning for this time … for him. But I haven’t planned anything for me. My plan beyond Shane going to college consists of one thing: visiting Shane at college.
Sure, someday my husband plans to retire and we’ve talked a little about what that might be. But my life has revolved around children, then teenagers, and the college search, for nearly a decade. Where they land is where I want to be.
They do not want this. Maybe they want a safe place to call home, a place to return and visit for holidays while they’re building their own lives. But they don’t want me traipsing all over the country wondering when they’ll provide me with grandchildren. If anything, they want me to stand back and let them grow.
And I can do that, I suppose. But for right now, I will just wonder where Shane will go to college.