Leaving

Lisa Mandelbaum

It is September, and time for me to leave for college. Not only college, I am leaving home, my paradise, my protection, my friends, and you. Getting me ready all summer took a lot out of you. Your face looks worn and tired. Your body aches. Your bad knee is swollen, but you won't let that stop you. You keep going, making sure I have everything I need. It is as if you were going to college with me. Sometimes I wish you were. You feel the same, but you know that wouldn't be good for either of us.

It is my last day home, and I am nervous, soared, and upset. It has finally occurred to me that I am no longer your little girl. You look at me and I look at you, both knowing that this is it. You know how I am feeling because you feel the same way. I am trying to pack and you are driving me crazy with, "Take this!" "No, I don't want to, I won't need it." "How do you know you won't need it?" "I just know, now will you stop it!" I yell at you, you yell at me. It thunders. We stop yelling. My bright room has been taken over by darkness, sadness, silence. It is raining. I look up at you. Your big, green eyes are filled with tears. Your eyelashes flutter, trying to hold them back. You don't want me to see you crying. It's no use because I have. For a long time I just stare at you, trying to remember what you look like. Your blonde hair perfectly done up, with a wave that slightly covers one eyebrow. Your clear, smooth skin, not a line or wrinkle to be found. The sweet smell of your favorite perfume. All these things I will miss. You look up at me and see me staring at you. You smile. I'm sorry, I start to say, but don't finish because you know by just looking at my face. The rain stops, and we continue packing.

It is Friday, the day I leave for college. It is finally here. I can't believe it. The oar is all packed up and we are off. The whole drive up I know what you are thinking. "Will she like it?" "Will she do well?" "What will her roommate be like?" "God, I'm going to miss my baby!" As I sit next to you and watch you, I can tell you have more anxiety about college than I do. We have finally arrived. You feel that tightening in your stomach. I know, because I feel it too. I have registered and gotten everything into my room. It is time for you to leave. You hug me as if you were never going to see me again, even though you know you will. I can tell you are crying. You think that by wearing your sunglasses I can't tell, but I can. You have tried to pull that same trick whenever I left for sleep-away camp. It didn't work then, and it doesn't work now. I know, I am crying too.

It is 5:00 P.M.. You are home. You walk into the house and straight into my room. You move things around to make sure they are in their right places. You look around. Even though everything is there it looks empty, like an evicted apartment. You are nervous. You straighten out the bed again. Then you lie on it, holding one of my stuffed animals. You cry, I know, because l am crying too. You know that also. You look at my stereo, and say to yourself: "I can't tell her to lower the sound anymore!" Then you look at the television set. "I can't tell her to turn it off anymore!" From there your eyes reach the telephone. "I can't tell her to get off the phone and do her homework." The phone is the worst enemy of all. You stare at it for a long time. You want to call me. I want to call you, but we don't. You want to tell me that you love me and that everything is all right. I know, because I know you. Don't worry Mom, I'll be fine. I love you, but you already know that too.