by Angel Kane
This past Wednesday we moved our eldest into her new home away from home for the next four years.
Her new residence is a fifteen by thirty cinder block room with a small window, toilet and sink. No, it’s not what you’re thinking. She isn’t serving time in the local jail, but at the first sight of her room, she and I both teared up as if she’d been sentenced to four years in the big house!
Operation “Move Out Madison” had begun in earnest 6 weeks before, when we started shopping for her dorm. All of a sudden I noticed aisles and aisles of dorm room furnishings.
Where did these futons, bed risers and under the bed shelving come from? Apparently they’ve existed all along, but never before had I had the need for bed risers.
Or better yet, a combo bed riser/charging station.
Our dining room became the base for this operation and each day we would add pillows, comforters and a monogrammed this or that to the pile.
Her dad became worried, “there is no way this is all going to fit into her dorm room, much less our car!”
Oh ye’ of little faith, “we are taking three cars and that’s what bed risers are for!”
After gathering the furnishings, we started on her clothes. And I use the term, “her” loosely because shirt by shirt, belt by belt and shoe by shoe, items were removed from my closet.
“Those are my jeans,” I yelled out in desperation. We ladies know how hard it is to find a good pair of jeans and she was packing mine!
“Skinny jeans are too old for you, so are those sunglasses, can I have them please?”
In that moment of weakness, because my first child was now leaving me, I gave in on the jeans followed by the glasses, and my new purse… apparently I’m too old for it too!
And so on Wednesday at 6 a.m., we headed out with our convoy.
Box by box, tub by tub, suitcase by suitcase we moved her out and then in to her new life. Twelve hours later we had transformed cellblock D into quite the comfortable suite.
And then, it was time to go.
There was nothing left to unpack or decorate, although I lingered as long as possible trying to find a reason not to go.
But our work here was done, both literally and figuratively.
The rest of her life will be up to her… including packing all that mess up and bringing it home in 10 months.
Her father and I have already started counting down the days.