Dear Mom,

It’s Parent Weekend, and you’re not here. Why?

Love,
Hannah

I’ve never written my parents an e-mail like that. What would be the point? I knew why my parents couldn’t make it this past weekend. I’m from Florida, and the logistics of spending the weekend and the plane ticket money for another trip across the country weren’t in our favor. It just didn’t make sense — I gave my mom a tour of the campus during orientation, and I talk to my parents on the phone every week. They know what’s going on in my life, and that I’ve adjusted all right.

Besides, I don’t need them. I’m a big, independent college student, right?

As I write this, I’m lying on Metzger lawn, watching happy freshmen show their parents and grandparents and sisters and cousins and uncles and who-knows-what-elses their favorite study spots and on-campus pastimes. Every once in a while, a friend of mine will come up and introduce their parental posse to me, explaining every detail of how I met them, what classes we have together, and what makes me awesome.

For the most part, however, I just sit here, trying to radiate Biola happiness as passing families stare at me when they pass. I feel kind of like a potted plant – something else on campus to look nice for the parents.

Does it bother me? I’m honestly not sure. I liked the freedom of waking up at 11:00 this morning and not having to come to some special brunch thing and spout interesting facts about school while making sure my little brother isn’t attacking the decorations. Still, I like my family. And even the thought of writing this article made me log onto Facebook and look at pictures of my siblings.

I’d never noticed how cute they were.

All that to say, I’m feeling pretty nostalgic/wistful/whatever right now. It probably comes with the change in the weather — I want my little sister here to scoop pumpkin guts with me and start writing Christmas lists. Still, in case you’re worrying about my emotional stability, I’m not about to lock myself in my room and lie on my bed wailing “Mommyyyyyyy!” to the ceiling. I don’t have time with all of this homework to finish.

Over the summer, I began to realize just how awesome my parents are. Everything from conversations about classic rock in the car with my dad, to helping my mom with party preparations has given me new insight into their spiritual maturity and how generally entertaining they are. Not to sound sappy, of course. They still crack some pretty lame jokes and I don’t always approve of their fashion choices, but I still find myself consciously recalling which colors my mom thinks look good on me, and the way my dad plays Kansas’ “Dust in the Wind.” Somewhere during the last 19 years, they started rubbing off on me. And I think I like it.

To all of the freshmen (and otherwise) who had their parents here for the weekend, I hope you milked it for all it was worth. Trust me, you’ll miss them – quirks and all.

As for me, I’m going to send my parents the link to this article, and hope that they know how much I love them from the other side of the country.

Here’s to making every weekend Parent Weekend.