My freshman year of college. A new state I had never been to prior to exploring the University of Rhode Island, and here I am, moving into my first dorm room with the help of my family. I have never been away from home for more than two weeks. What surprised me the most was that I didn’t cry. I watched as my family shed tears and grew knots of goodbye in their throats. Of course, I too was sad, but I expected to sob, to hold tight to my dad’s leg and my mom’s hand as I did when they left me, their baby girl, on the front steps of the oh-so intimidating preschool steps of preschool. Now, they leave their baby girl (the word “baby” used more loosely) at the entrance of her dorm room building, where she hugs them, and where she doesn’t cry. Maybe this has been a sign that she is stronger, braver, and more independent than she had ever known. Maybe this is the first step to a future that is all her own, not a reason for tears, but a reason for terrifying excitement. Grasp hold to this concept.
Let this replace the leg and hand you once held for comfort, know it is okay to cry, but also know you do not have to. Surprise yourself with the intrigue of life that is all your own. The transition is rude at first; it steals your sense of direction, emotion, and all of your familiarity. Realize that in your lack of orientation you do not stand alone. Find a compass within your peers because I am pretty sure none of us know what to feel or how to act. Know it is okay to cry, but know you do not have to, know you are not alone. Together, we can sweeten the transition and realize it is not nearly as evil as we previously believed. In fact, it can be quite sweet.