This spring break, I sent my 17-year-old-son and his dad off on a three-state college tour with a dozen hard-boiled eggs, a rolled-up tent and tears.
I turned away when Judah sat on my bed to say goodbye. Our oldest son is nearly 6 feet tall, and all I could think of was the ache I had felt holding him one dark winter night soon after he was born and realized that someday he would grow up and leave.
Now, that day was nearly here. Judah has worked his way to summer camp and stayed with family, but visiting colleges was his first real foray into manhood. I couldn’t believe the best I had to give him was leftover Easter eggs and the hope of finding an open campground.
“It’s pathetic,” I said, wiping away tears. “It’s pathetic that we are sending you to look at $40,000-a-year colleges with a dozen eggs, one pair of good pants and a tent.”
Granted, I had forgotten to buy snacks for their 30-hour, 5-day car trip, and they had a credit card should they need it. But despite my decision to work at home as a writer while raising six children in an economically depressed state – Maine – I truly believed my husband, Dana, and I would be better prepared to send Judah to college. <Read more.>