Lugging two computers, a very large CRT monitor, a drum machine, a
150W amp, two guitars and my entire wardrobe downstairs, not to mention
half a forest in pads, every single book, DVD and CD I ever owned and
enough posters to cover the entire dorm in glorious metal
fashion down three flights of stairs was, at first, the most gruelling
experience of leaving for university. I'd been
looking forward to leaving home for years (just to be typical), and at
that point wasn't giving much thought to how my
parents were feeling.
With me was the most touching card I'd
ever received - all my coworkers signed with a special message, which
made me feel the most at home when I was about to leave. Talk about
mixed feelings. Still, I was embarking on the voyage into a brave new world, and doing it bleary-eyed, memories of the leaving party fresh in my throat and pounding head.
And
yet, when all the admin had been sorted out, the sheets were on my bed
and the posters were jostling for space on my new pristine, white walls, I suddenly became four again and wanted my
parents. Something tells me I'm not quite cut out for independence
right now.