Who are You?

What a parent sees when their son goes off to college.

Mike and I took a drive to Flagstaff last Thursday. It was a beautiful day to head north, staying ahead of the summer heat pushing to explode. The dry pines testified to the drought. The snow on the mountain peaks assured us that there is water somewhere.

It was a turnaround trip, up and back. An unfamiliar young man rode in the back seat. He had arrived at our house the night before, coming after a few days of spring break in California with friends. He looked like Blue Boy, but his actions confused me. Blue Boy would normally tilt his head in response to my hug. This young man hugged back.

Soon the laundry was running, testimony that a college kid was in the house. I went to bed having laid out our plans to leave at 9:00 am with a stop for coffee on the way.

The next morning, on time, (huh?) Blue Boy stashed his bag in the rear compartment and settled into the back seat. One seat. I recalled our family vacations when each boy cocooned with blankets, pillows, and toys in separate rows, often covering their heads for privacy.

Taking the boys to the coffee shop in years past triggered a mid-transaction automatic refill of my Starbucks card. They favor Dutch Brothers now. I was willing to negotiate.

So, Blue Boy, should we stop at Dutch Bros?

It doesn’t matter.

Well, if it doesn’t matter, I will opt for McDonald’s.

That’s fine.

I looked closely. He looked like Blue Boy. And then, he declined the offer of food or drink. Who is this man? I assured him we would treat him to lunch.

As we neared Munds Park, 20 miles short of Flagstaff, he asked about lunch.  

There’s a coffee shop in Munds Park that serves sandwiches. You can pull up the menu and decide if it is okay with you.

It will be fine.

When the boys were young, spontaneous stops at a restaurant often resulted in anxiety and refusal to eat if there was inadequate time to peruse the menu beforehand. On this day, at the Kota's Coffee Shop counter, Blue Boy settled on an adult grilled cheese which he judged excellent.

A pleasant tour of his dorm, our first time there, culminated in another full hug and expressions of love. And Mike and I were on our way home, with lots of time to reflect.

One expects observable changes in development when children are little. The maturation of young adults is jarring. Yes, this is my grandboy, but he isn’t a boy, nor an adolescent. He is a young man.

I’ve  been through this. I know how this goes. In the blink of an eye, he will be a full-fledged adult managing house payments and home repairs without consulting his mother. He will face crises of which I know nothing because he handles them himself. At some point, likely when I am long gone, he will count the years to retirement and apply for Social Security.

I recall the animated conversations during family car trips. The sing-alongs. The state car license or alphabet games. The videos when we adults wanted some quiet. The breaks at parks for picnics and burning off energy. The endless snacks strewing crumbs, wrappers, and straws on the seats and floors. The arguments over who was crossing the imaginary line or looking the wrong way. The unending loop of ‘how much longer’? The good ole days.

And yet. The songs, conversations, games, arguments, and snacks are packaged together, dissolved into memories, nourishing the person to be. There is joy is witnessing the maturation of a human being, seeing the love poured into a child growing independent and purposeful and happy. I am in awe.

p.s. the next day, Blue Boy texted requesting the name of the café in Munds Park.