In Two Years

Chapter 1: Move In

Today stirred up a lot of emotions. Let's start in the morning. I had just arrived at campus with my belongings lounging in the back of my car.

My passenger seat is empty, but I imagine my dad lolling in it. He's playing with the radio trying to find the best rock station to play. "Dad, you can plug your phone into my aux."

"Nope. The radio is for music and the phone is for talking."

He hated using the same device for multiple uses. He would always tell me, the camera is for photos, the phone is for talking, and the computer is for editing. He would scold me, in the calmest way he could, whenever I would try to edit photos on my phone.

"100.7 is classic rock and roll." I would always remind him. I've memorized the radio stations my parents listened to. There wasn't much else to do in the car during our road trips. I would bring books to read, but I would finish them in a heartbeat. Any song that my parents knew by heart would get turned to full volume, which wasn't that loud since the radio in the car sucked. I would look over my dad's shoulder to see what radio station was playing and I would write it in a journal of memories in my brain. 100.7 was playing on The Boston University Bridge on the way to New York.

I turn the radio to 100.7. I listen to one song before I start unpacking my car. Carry On Wayward Son by Kansas. I close my eyes and sing along. I can hear my dad's voice singing along with me. Raspy but somehow smooth at the same time. He had so much control over his voice.

He was so talented. With his voice. With a camera. With a knife in the kitchen. All this reminiscing forces a tear to glide down my cheek.

I'm brought back to move in my freshman year. My heart witnessed what it would have been like to have my parents help me move in.

My dad is driving his car with my mom in the passenger seat. I'm driving my car following them. I can see them looking in the rearview mirror to check that I didn't lose track of them.

I'm blasting my own music in the car for once. I enjoy my own company until it hits me. This will be one of many moments where I will be jamming out to my own music in my own car, and my parents won't be here to change the music to classic rock. A tear meets my smile as that thought crosses my mind.

I'm wondering what my parents are doing in their car. Are they playing music? Are they conversing? Are they talking about me?

We walk through the doors into my dorm. My roommate is there with her parents. My parents will formally introduce themselves. They would get along because they always get along with everyone they meet.

My mom would help me decorate my room. After I get all of my belongings unpacked and organized, we explore the campus. We would get hungry. I would suggest a place off-campus to eat since I would have four years to get familiar with the dining places here.

We will go to the nearest diner. I would enjoy the last moments I have with them before Thanksgiving break. They will say goodbye to me. My mom will start crying and my dad will too. They'll leave and I'll be on my own for the first time.

But that's not how it went. My sister helped me move in that year. I love her to death and I'm so glad she was there with me. I just want to know what shade of green the grass would be on the other side.

It hurt us both seeing thousands of parents helping their kids move in. Neither of us got that. At the end of the night, we both sat on the couch crying while holding each other. It was one of the most painful nights of my life right next to the night my dad died. Oddly, it is one of the best memories I have of my sister. We were close growing up, but this moment made us even closer.