Contributing Writer

The Boy and I just returned from his college orientation where he learned all about college life. The three days for the incoming freshman class were filled with meetings with academic advisors, declaring a major, registering for classes, understanding the importance of good time management skills and study habits, learning the Auburn fight song, and of course, watching the cheerleaders perform just for them. The parents' three days, on the other hand, were spent in very different meetings.

Our days were filled with speaker after speaker informing us of our financial responsibilities. Like we didn't know already. They also informed us of the federal laws forbidding parents from seeing their child's grades. I stood up and told them that federal law was fine, but Dad's law says, "If I'm writing the check for The Boy to go to school, then I will be seeing his grades." I got a standing ovation.

The dean of the School of Business told us about the horror of one freshman student who received $1,500 in parking tickets in the first two months.�Got an easy solution for that one; The Boy can't get parking tickets while he's away at college if his truck's still parked in our driveway.�But most important of all, the counselors and advisors at Auburn told us how to let our children go so they could spread their wings and fly.

It's hard to let go.� I've been guilty of trying to cram a lifetime of wisdom into the last few months. So much so that I'm sure The Boy's really glad he's leaving soon and will be, as he has said so often, "out from under the oppressing thumb." But it's all done out of love, because the Wife and I know what the next four years will hold for him and us.

Sure, The Boy will come back during the next four years on holidays, when he's not down in Florida with his college buddies.�But then he'll be gone forever.�His time will be filled with his job, marriage, and hopefully a family of his own.�There will be no time for us. I'll never see him again.�I'm not ready for that.

So I hold on. Maybe too tightly, but I still hold on.�I hold on with the hopes that he will know, somehow, that I love him and wish only the best for him.

The Wife reminds me that The Boy is not going off to college to correct any of my failings. I know that. If he has done nothing else in the last eighteen and a half years, he has proven that he does have a mind and a strong will of his own. As I watch him from across the auditorium, he registers for calculus, world history, chemistry, English, and ROTC.

I could not be more proud.�It's not him I'm really worried about; he went to a great high school and he's well prepared. He'll do quite fine.�It's his dad that I'm really worried about.�My boy's almost grown, and he's leaving.

When we get our memories out, dust the time off of them, and add a sprinkle of honesty, we soon realize just how unequipped we really were to deal with college life.�Twenty-nine years ago I walked through the gates of Auburn University - a wide-eyed college freshman who didn't have a clue.�This past weekend at The Boy's orientation, I walked through those gates again. The years folded by and it seemed like yesterday.

How can we, as parents, expect our child to handle all the freedom and responsibility that comes from being a college student when just two months ago they were still in high school? Two months ago they were arguing with us about having too many rules and a curfew of midnight.�Two months ago, they couldn't even bring their dirty laundry down and find the laundry room.

Now, with no rules, no curfews, and in another state, we're to believe that they will make the right decisions and choose to study? Wish someone would've told me 19 years ago that being a parent was so hard. Maybe my parents did, and I wasn't listening.

But believe we must, for with total freedom comes total responsibility and growth.�So for all you college students out there who will be making that magical transition this fall from high school senior to college freshman, spread your wings wide and fly high. The world awaits you. In retrospect, for the next four years you are truly free. Enjoy every moment.

And for the empty-nesters out there like me, you just gotta believe that your children will spread their wings and soar. Hopefully, they will land back at home a few times during the year to visit.�Weighed down with dirty laundry, I'm sure.