The Writer’s Corner features poetry, essays, short stories, satire and various fiction and non-fiction from SCAD Atlanta students. To submit your own work for the Writer’s Corner, email features@scadconnector.com.
Moving In by Allison Hambrick
If there’s room for something to go wrong, it will. I had my move-in day planned down to the second. I would arrive at 6 a.m. to line-up for check in. That way, I would get the best bed, in the best room, with the best bathroom. After that, dad would run to get breakfast while mom and I made the bed and hung pictures. Then, we would make our grocery and necessity trips.
We were up and dressed by 5:39 a.m. My poor dad was starving, but Dictator Allie wanted to get there early, so we drove straight to my assigned apartment complex — Patterson Court. The security guard greeted us at the gate to say that the complex wouldn’t allow any outsiders until 7 a.m. Trying not to panic, I suggested we go to the store first. We went to my now local Walmart, which was a pretty big surprise since my mom is more of a Target girl.
My dad made a beeline to the back of the store and started looking through TVs despite the fact that we already had two old ones in the backseat of his truck. He looked over at me and asked if I wanted a Smart TV. Obviously, my answer was yes. He clarified that the TV was a gift to make up for the fact that due to finishing my spring quarter the day after my birthday and moving to Florida two days later, we didn’t have a lot of time for birthday presents. I almost cried from excitement. I had been rather anxious about whether or not I would have access to Netflix, Hulu and Amazon Prime since my apartment wouldn’t have cable and I cannot survive without access to a TV.
We made our way back to Patterson, where we faced another obstacle. The same security guard asked to see my itinerary, which listed my check-in time as 8:45 a.m., roughly 40 minutes later. We turned around again and headed out to get my dad his well-earned breakfast. Florida roads are a labyrinth of interstates, state roads and continuous construction sites, so what Waze listed as a 15-minute drive turned into a 25-minute drive. The Starbucks was packed like a can of sardines. My mom hurriedly placed our order, and of course, my dad’s usual order of Pike’s Place and a breakfast sandwich came out first. He left before us to see if he could get through security, he couldn’t.
More and more orders were filled, but the caramel macchiato that my mom and I had ordered were still nowhere to be found. After 15 minutes of pacing, asking the baristas and generally being more agitated than I should have been, we left empty-handed. One tense car ride later, we arrived at Patterson. This time the security guard let me through, and the check-in progress went smoothly. My assigned apartment was close to the security gate and right across from the pool — overall a sweet spot.
Being my awkward self, I couldn’t get the door to unlock. So, my new roommate had to let my family in from the inside. Grace is a film student who’s a year younger than me and funnier; she got there about 20 minutes before us. Dad immediately assumed his role of tech guru and set about getting my TV set up.
Mom made my bed and unpacked my clothes. It was kind of a weird feeling — my parents were doing everything for me like they used to. When I asked my dad about why they were going the extra mile to help me out, he simply looked away and responded that they wanted me to be comfortable. What should have been comforting only twisted the knife.
Throughout the rest of the day, I was on the verge of tears. My parents put out every fire that started, from roommates arguing over beds to my order of dorm supplies coming in several hours late to the wrong location. Beyond grateful, I could barely keep it together, but my parents kept their own composure and mine.
Saying goodbye is hard to do, no matter the circumstances. It can be especially hard when the people you’re saying goodbye to are your parents. We tried to say goodbye three times before it stuck. The first time, we were done setting up my apartment, but my dad decided we should get lunch. The second time, we ran to Target to get some living essentials, and afterwards, dad wanted to get dinner. Finally, we decided after dinner, we may as well get some groceries.
The final goodbye took place the next day at Disney Springs. I got there early, talked to my grandmother about how great things were going, and faced my impending independence. I wish I could say that I didn’t cry, but I did. I cried a lot. A small part of me wonders if my mom did the same after watching me walk away; I guess I’ll never know.
Things will inevitably go wrong in life, but you have to be able to rely on yourself to fix them, and when you can’t, you have to be able to rely on others. Part of growing up is saying goodbye to having your parents solve everything for you. One last day of mom and dad taking care of me was hard to swallow, not because I wasn’t grateful but because I knew it meant it was real. I am becoming an adult, and there’s nothing that can be done to stop it.
