One year ago today, I was a hurting dad.

Whether or not you could tell by my voice on the air, I was shaken. I had just dropped off my baby girl at college. After 18 years of living with this child, it was time for us to leave her alone in a big city, turn the SUV around and drive south. As we grew farther apart with every passing minute on Route 24, the pain also grew.

I was a wreck. I had an empty feeling in the pit of my stomach. It was an ache that wouldn't go away. Her lack of presence in our home was palpable. I wondered what I had forgotten to teach her over the past 18 years. Had I armed her with enough street smarts?

 

"You know you can't just walk around Boston with your face in your phone," I told her.  "Someone will snatch your phone, or worse!"

"I know, dad," she'd say, calmly.

As her freshman year wore on, the dull ache eased to a more manageable discomfort.  Did I miss my daughter?  You better believe it, but we took her out to dinner, and attended games and other events, taking full advantage of the fact that she was only about an hour away. We'd see her for one reason or another about once a week, and I realized that it was going to be OK.

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Her summer break was joyfully long. We enjoyed a lot of Acushnet Creamery nights and afternoon walks with the dog. After a few weeks it started to feel like she lived here again. I started to take her presence here at home for granted (in the best way). I just hate the thought of it being a big deal when she comes home. I much prefer lazy, casual, unhurried conversations with my kids, and I got that back.

As the summer vacation winded down, the familiar anxiety in my belly slowly awakened like an angry Yeti.

This past weekend, we used our Tetris skills to pack up the cars and ship up to Boston.  As we set up her dorm room, I knew what was coming next.  The dragon I had not slayed last summer was breathing fire: the dreaded goodbye.

If you are a first-time college parent, the sophomore goodbye is nothing compared to the freshman goodbye. There's some pain, of course, but it's not like the acute pain from freshman year.

To freshman parents: It gets better. I promise.

The next thing you'll have to deal with will be Thanksgiving weekend when they think they can stay out until 3 a.m.  But you'll love them being home so much you'll let it slide.

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