I remember leaving the Sunday School Convention with a car packed with all my stuff. I remember move in. Shopping at Wal-mart (before I knew it was the devil) and Target for all the things I thought I would need. I remember Sanchia, Dorian, Fabian and Kristin and the excitement that we all had to start classes. Meeting my roommate Layla, who would later go on to fuck my crush and accuse me of being racist. Going to church with my parents and hanging in their hotel room. Buying books and eating in the union.
It’s been almost a decade since I started college and consequently my journey into adulthood. Despite my memories of the excitement leading up to that first summer semester, what stands out to me right now- is the feeling that I felt when they left. I was having so much fun those first few days I never really thought about the fact my parents wouldn’t be in a hotel down the street forever. They hugged me, climbed into the green Ford Explorer and left.
They left me. Their baby. All alone in Tallahassee. The eager and cocky 17 year old girl suddenly stopped feeling so eager and cocky. I went back into Dorman Hall and cried. What was I to do now?
At 20… the same feeling came when he left me in Philadelphia. And at 23 when they left me in Arizona. Despite the fact that it was my decision to move those places…I still felt abandon.
Years later I leave them way more than they leave me. I guess I am grown and that’s the way it is supposed to be, but I would be lying if I told ya’ll that I didn’t break down and cry every time I leave and not know when I will see my parents again. They worry about me and I don’t blame them. I worry about them too. They are the loves of life. The phone maintains our bond. As much as I miss them I know I can’t grow living in the same city as them.
I miss them so much I don’t see them. I don’t want to be reminded how comforting a hug from my mom is or how much I enjoy just being in my dad’s presence. So I stay away until I forget how much I miss them and how much they are a part of me.
I am not 17 anymore. I know eventually things will change and they will leave me again….at some point it won’t be back to West Palm but it will be a permanent departure. Mercedes tells me despite my attempts I can never prepare myself for their final departure.
What I am trying to say is I went home this weekend. I saw my parents. Good-byes are hard at 17 or 27.