It doesn't really sound too surprising that though I've known this day would come since forever, it never really clicked. I couldn't even imagine life when all of my siblings entered the brave new world that is higher education. As a little shout out to my fellow youngests, I think that being the last to leave the nest is one of the harder burdens life places on us. A family separated, even on the nicest of terms (like university) is like the leftover scraps from a Sunday roast. Those left behind after the feast huddle together in shared little containers since they don't need the big plate anymore. It's not completely over, they can still be reheated and reunited in the microwave, but it just doesn't taste the same. No matter how close it is you still spend most of your time in the refrigerator.
It's an awkward comparison when I think about it too literaly (sounds like some post-apocalyptic survivor story - screw the matrix, we're really leftovers in the fridge), but right now I feel like the scraggly strips of roast someone left behind on their plate.
In my experience the parents always cry when they drop the first born and second born and so on off at the campus, or worse (and in my case) the airport. It's the younger siblings job to look on proudly, with a smile that says 'Good job! You finally made it!' The parents will always have a harder time than the siblings. I've never been alone to deal with the parental aftermath of saying goodbye before. I came home from school and my parents were sitting around, saying nothing. I didn't figure out why until I said something and discovered the terrible echo in the house.
Last weekend we moved me into my second brothers nicer, brighter, and bigger room. I still turn the wrong way at the top of the stairs, but I'm slowly adjusting. It doesn't look like my brothers room anymore, but my ownership of it feels weirdly temporary. I suppose it is; next September my mother gets to cry her last baby goodbye. In some ways I see this as a good thing. In most ways I see this as a good thing. Other times I don't want to think about what it'll be like for my parents, that boundless pride mixed with overwhelming sadness, and dusting off another empty room every once in a while... Progress is progress, however, and growing up is impossible without the crucial 'moving on' phase. Still, I wonder how they'll fight the echo when I'm not there to be loud.
We spend a lot more time together now, I think. We watch shows (V, currently). We invite people over for dinner. We don't play cards anymore (something that was once a nightly ritual for my family). Euchre is a four person game.
It's not all doom and gloom; like I said, we hit the microwave every now and then with phone calls and the wonders of Skype. But there's an awful lot of fridge time... Then again, it's only September, and the perks of being an only child (the disappearance of the want/need barrier) are a nice comfort.
As a side, I give you a view from my new bedroom window. It looks far more impressive in real life. Still, only in Trinidad, eh?
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