So the girl in charge is firmly ensconced in her new digs at Emory University, on the Oxford College campus -- and you have never seen a happier girl.
We left a day early to get her there because the drive to Atlanta takes about twelve hours. The girl and I loaded up our rented SUV (and the girl in charge just screeched in outrage -- did you hear her? -- because I did not load one item into that vehicle; not even my purse), and we headed out. The husband stayed behind, because the tall boy and SHE moved into their college dorms at Catholic University on the same weekend that Emory opened its doors to the girl in charge.
tangent: And people, this all happened the same week that the tall boy got out of the hospital, SHE flew into town to help take care of him, the girl in charge and I flew around town running the off-to-school errands that we had planned to run before the tall boy's lung drama re-arranged our schedule, and I finished the final vexing negotiations with the car insurance people who so cheerfully informed me that my car (crunched back in June) was a "total loss; thank you for letting us serve you." As the husband said to a friend, "for a while there, we had it coming and going." If only the
it had been Xanax . . . .
We spent the night in a hotel in Covington, Georgia, which is a booming metropolis with a Walmart
right across the street from our hotel. The next morning we rolled up to the girl in charge's new home and unloaded
a whole crapload of stuff the well-thought-out and totally necessary items the girl in charge had brought from home (as an example, see froggy wastebasket above).
We met the roommate, who is adorable and sweet, and who is from a city in China near Shanghai -- so that's cool. She kept apologizing for her "not very well English," but her English is certainly a lot weller than my Chinese.
She helped us carry the girl's stuff to their room, and they left to explore together, while I made the newly minted coed's bed. I could get all sniffly and nostalgic about making my little girl's bed for her one last time, but who here really thinks I have made that girl's bed for her even once in the last ten years? Oh, please. The walls were only waiting for the necessary
Harry Potter,
Wicked,
Doctor Who,
Billy Elliot and
Gashlycrumb Tinies posters to make it seem just like home.
The girl in charge and I made a swing through the college bookstore so I could collect the obligatory swag. She was giddy with anticipation when she saw all the textbooks (we make 'em nerdy here in my house). We both suspected that her godfather would be happy to see that this play is being taught in a political science class.
So the grand finale of Move-In Day at Emory is a "Coke Toast" as parents say goodbye to their freshmen. Those of you who remember my love of all things Coca-Cola know how tickled I was by this custom, which stems from the fact that the vast bulk of Emory's endowment, as well as the land on which the main campus sits, comes from various corporate Coca-Cola donations. I mean, don't even think about strolling across that campus with a Pepsi -- the girl in charge was given just the smallest bit of a fish-eye when she carried a twelve-pack of Dr. Pepper into her dorm.
After leaving my girl (sniff), I went to my dear friend Randy's house, to decompress with her and her husband Bart. And let me just say that everyone should have a Randy and Bart to decompress with. A delicious meal, a glass of wine, and a chance to relax and visit with these lovely people -- it was a perfect way to end a day spent saying good-bye to my beloved girl.
