The Day I Flew The Nest (Temporarily)

Back in 2009 I left the family home in order to strike it out in the "real" world all on my lonesome. It was an emotionally loaded day, despite how hard I tried to play it cool and act like I didn't care I was leaving home. This mostly stemmed from an episode of utter sadness displayed by my little brother a few days earlier. He had started crying, devastated by my impending departure. Seeing him so upset had in turn upset me, which resulted in an explosion of tears.

I had then sworn there would be no more tears, no more sadness. This is what I wanted, after all. University was where "it" was at, whatever "it" may be and I would not embarrass myself in front of my new roommates.

So, kicking around in the back of my mind was the promise to myself that I would not cry. Not even when I saw how badly my room looked (sparse and mouldy with the distinctive smell of disuse). Not even when all my belongings were piled up in the middle of the room (looking forlorn and lonely). Not even when I met my new flatmates, from various floors, and realised how crippling my social awkwardness could be.

No, I would not cry. Instead I focused on what was before me.

I did ponder a lot, on that fateful morning. Mostly my thoughts were "did the halls look this bad when I visited them on the Open Day?" and "is this really worth £95 a week?" Both of the answers to this question were no, but it hardly seemed worth pursuing. We (meaning my Dad) had two flights of stairs to climb in order to deposit my many suitcases and boxes on the floor of my room.

We also had a meeting to attend and we were late enough as it was due to excessive amounts of traffic in the car park, so we rushed off to the introductory lecture on campus. Too busy to really contemplate my fate, I had managed to retain all my tears. I felt badass and grown-up. Things were going the way I wanted them to.

Despite our rushing to the lecture hall where our introductory meeting was to be held, we missed our given timeslot. No problem. It was a gloriously sunny day, unseasonably warm for September and there were free drinks on offer. We sat out in the sun with some cake and orange juice and took in the sights. I spent the time imagining myself rushing about to and from lectures. This was campus and boy did it look cool. I couldn't wait to start.

The happy image burst like the fragile bubble it was when we returned to my bedroom a while later. My parents couldn't stick around as they needed to return to my sister and brother. We'd spent only two-three hours together and I was not ready to see them leave. Other students were going for meals with their parents. I wanted that too!

Instead, I got rejected. Condemned to feed myself on the very first night of studenthood. But no, I was going to hold it together. I was not going to cry! I would be strong and mature. And I might have been, until my father returned from the supermarket with a few last minute purchases.

Dad: Here! I bought you some tissues, just in case you need them.

Me: *looks at tissues and promptly bursts into tears*

Dad: *looking startled* I was only joking.

Mum: Look what you've done.

So, I eventually got the crying out of the way. I felt stupid, yes, and I had been so close to achieving ultimate calm, but I think I needed to let out any upset I might have had at seeing my parents return home without me. I glared at my Dad for his tactless attempt at humour and he hugged me to say sorry. It didn't make up for the fact they were leaving early or that I'd cried, because I bet none of the other students had cried when their parents left them.

My parents assured me they would be visiting soon (within two weeks) with my sister and brother so that they could see where I now lived. It didn't make me feel a lot better, but it did give me something to look forward to.

Eventually the time for them to leave arrived. I watched them drive away from the kitchen window, a wave of sadness and fear washing over me as I released I was well and truly alone now (except for my new roommates). This was not how I imagined my first day of independence going. I thought I would manage some wit and intelligence, making new friends wherever I walked. I was not supposed to be curled up in a foetal position.

I went and made a cup of tea, because tea makes everything better. It is the equivalent of a comfort blanket. You've had a hard day, you make a cup of tea. Your favourite show is cancelled, you make a cup of tea. A member of your family has died, you make a cup of tea.

Your parents have abandoned you, you make a cup of tea. And after that, things didn't seem so bad.