Mom on the Run
The text from my son is a little tiny image. No message, just this little forwarded picture. Luckily, I have a new brilliant phone (it’s much more intelligent than I am) so I can open it up, pinch the image, spread it out, and read it.
“People say that good things come in small packages, but in college admissions, good things come in thick envelopes. Consider this the small package, but something bigger is on its way. Be sure to check your mailbox closely in the coming days. Welcome! – The Admission Committee”
Oh! Oh! Really?
Wait, what?
I read it again: “People say that good things come in small packages, but in college admissions, good things come in thick envelopes. Consider this the small package, but something bigger is on its way. Be sure to check your mailbox closely in the coming days.” Yes, that sounds like he’s in. Right? I want him to be in, so is that what it says? Or am I wanting it too much?
OK, so, a third, careful read, just to be sure: “People say that good things come in small packages …” OK, that part’s clear. “ … but in college admissions, good things come in thick envelopes.” True. “Consider this the small package, but something bigger is on its way.”
So that means: a small good-things email, followed by a thick envelope, which is a good thing in college admissions?
“Be sure to check your mailbox closely in the coming days.” For the thick envelope, right? That means … that means acceptance, right? Dang, why doesn’t it just come out and say whether he’s been accepted or not? I don’t want my tense brain to make false assumptions, to get excited about nothing.
I look at the message again, getting ready to read it once more, which is ridiculous, I’ve already read it three times, and this time my brain skips over the vague hints about small packages and thick envelopes, and focuses on the end, which says: “Welcome!”
Welcome! That means … come in! That means they want him! That means … acceptance! Yes!
I breathe again, and I pump my fist. This is my son’s final college notification. He applied to four universities: the first two acceptances came in the mail, and they were very clear: “You’re in!” said the first one, emblazoned across the outside of the mailer. “Congratulations!” crowed the second, right at the top of the cover letter. And, yes, both mailings were thick envelopes, with information on applying for financial aid, and selecting a dorm, and upcoming school Open Houses.
The third college is as high-tech as this one, though, and sent an email instead of snail mail: an email that my son read, distilled, and summarized to me in text: “Didn’t get in.” And that was fine, really, because – hmph! – he didn’t want to go to that school anyway.
But this final notification had us holding our breath. The challenge school, the stretch, and yes! He made it! The email says, “Welcome!”
pop my son a quick reply text: “Congratulations! I am so proud of you!” I sit a minute, smiling, and bask in the moment. And for now, right now, this moment, I’m glad, very glad. Right now, I don’t think about my son, my youngest, graduating and moving away. Not now. Right now, I’m just glad.
