I’m sending my last one off to college this week.
My husband is moving to Mississippi to continue work toward his doctorate in journalism.
To meet the residency requirement, he’s moving to the campus this summer and taking four classes.
At first, he was going to live in a dorm. A co-ed dorm. A cohort of his did it for two summers, and she would sneak in her husband when he came to visit.
I wasn’t really looking forward to going to bunk beds and a bathroom down the hall.
He’s decided to live in an on-campus apartment — a 400-square-foot apartment with cinder-block walls and a twin bed. The video tour online takes three seconds.
It does have a stove and a refrigerator, and he’s renting furniture.
Then, he had to decide whether to get a cafeteria meal plan. My younger son said, “It’s just weird hearing my dad talk about a meal plan.”
Yes, it is.
My husband said he wishes he could get me a meal plan while he’s gone. He’s worried that I will starve because he’s the cook.
I’ve assured him I won’t, because I know three things:
• How to use a drive-through;
• How to use a microwave; and
• How to order pizza.
Maybe one of my sons will invite me over for dinner.
In a strange role reversal, my husband asked our older son if he had any kitchen items to share.
Our son invited us over to raid the cabinets in his apartment. “What do you need? Do you need any cups?” our son asked as he opened cabinet doors and pulled out dishes.
It was deja vu.
My husband left with measuring cups, measuring spoons, a spatula and cleaning supplies, including Ajax still unopened from when we gave it to our son when he moved into an apartment.
My mother bought my husband some dishes and utensils, too.
He also happily showed me the laundry bag he dragged out — the one his dear grandmother, Mossie, made for him when he first went to college — 35 years ago this fall.
He’s excited, and I don’t blame him.
I haven’t lived alone in 25 years. I remember liking it.
I’m not afraid, because I have three things:
• A security system;
• An attack cat that outweighs most felons; and
• An assemblage of Star Wars weapons, baseball bats and a realistic-looking rubber snake from my boys’ childhoods.
I’m going to miss not having my husband there every day, but I’m really proud of him.
He’s 53 years old, so it’s going to be a little different experience living on campus.
He has to remember only three things:
• No fraternity parties;
• No sorority girls; and
• Curfew is 11 p.m.
Senior writer Tammy Keith can be reached at (501) 327-0370 or tkeith@arkansasonline.com.