First, a quote: “The day the child realizes that all adults are imperfect, he becomes an adolescent; the day he forgives them, he becomes an adult; the day he forgives himself, he becomes wise.” -Alden Nowlan

Second, a snippet: During one of our nearly daily summer drives to the Mount Sequoyah pool last Friday, I missed my turn and sadly said to passenger Troy, “Sorry. I was thinking of Sinead O’Connor.” To which he replied, “It’s okay. We all are.”

Third, a short story: Back when Sinead was first becoming famous, I was Huck’s age about to head off to college 84 miles away from home. My memories of that summer before I left are hazy – it was 35 years ago, after all – but I do remember feeling like my parents were being extra mean to me. My mom in particular, always so loving, was argumentative and accusatory all summer long. It finally came to a head one August day when she asked why I was packing up so much of my bedroom, and when I reminded her of the upcoming trip to Wichita State she cried, “I thought you were just going to college! I didn’t know you were moving out!” And though I was an innocent 18 year old, I knew enough about the world to understand that she was sad, not mad. And she was right; I never lived at home again after that move.

(And within a few days I’d meet 18 year old Troy, but that’s another story.)

Earlier this month my sister Jeni and I made a quick trip to that same house, and on the last evening we read letters we had sent to our parents long ago. One was written by my mom to me right before Huck was born. It was a pep talk, reminding me how strong I was and how much pain and then love I was about to feel. I considered taking the letter home with me – why did they have it anyway? – but decided I liked the idea of it mingling with letters I wrote in my twenties.

When our weekend ended, my mom and I headed south to get her back home, driving right by the Wichita State University exit we’d taken all those years ago, and I asked her if she had any advice for our upcoming trip to college. With Elvis playing on the radio, she agreed that it would be sad and told me to always put Huck first – more wisdom about the pain and love of parenthood. “He’ll miss you too,” she added. I asked if she remembered my last summer at home. Staring straight ahead she nodded and said with a hint of sadness, “You moved out.”

Huck and I have had our own summer of occasional turbulence, along with perfectly calm dorm shopping, dog walks, and dinners together now and then. I know enough about the world to understand that he’s ready for independence, and there’s no greater symbol against it than a Mommy. I represent everything he wants to leave behind, and I can earn angry lectures by accidentally asking if he’s had enough to eat or if he’s making enough money. But when he’s feeling tender and childlike, he asks for help composing a text to his roommate or setting up his new Discover card, sometimes asking if we can sit and talk, giving me a brief status boost during this awkward transition. I know he’s about to experience something that nothing so far in his life compares to, and Troy and I will take the back seat together and remember.

And a conclusion: I pulled up Carnegie Mellon’s move-in weekend schedule the other day and found this: “Families should say farewell by 5 p.m. on Sunday, August 20, when student Orientation sessions begin.” Then I played some Sinead O’Connor and started dinner.