“Please come back to get me Mom. I can’t survive on my own.”
“Are you alright Kenny? You were so excited to be away from us just a few hours ago.”
“I hate this place. I don’t want to be here and I never wanted to be here. You forced me to do this and you ruined my life.”
“Don’t talk about school that way. Your father and I sacrificed a lot to get you there. Just give it some time. I’ll be right by the phone if you need to call for my guidance.”
The morning was light and calm. A cool breeze was in the air as the sun shown above the winding horizon. Not much sleep was had the night prior. It was filled with hours of anxiousness and excitement. The sun continued to rise, chased down by a long two hour car ride towards freedom.
The time was slowly ticking down, almost sitting still. Then, in the distance, it appeared. Leaves bright with color, buildings vibrant and welcoming. I hurried out of the car, parents in tow, and rushed to registration. It was my first day of eighth grade, and my first hours at boarding school. I arrived at registration and was greeted with smiles that I mirrored with more happiness than how I recieved them.
Registration finally concluded. I walked with pride and joy as I went to see the freedom and independence that the campus presented. From the school building to the hockey rink, everywhere I looked showed hope and opportunity. For the first time in weeks, the hours flew by. My parents prepared to leave and I sent them off with a wave from afar. I was free to make my own decisions.
After a long two hours, my parents finally arrived back at home. As they entered the house, they were greeted by an unpleasant surprise, a phone call from me. I had just barely managed to make it two hours on my own before I had had enough. The freedom I once anticipated was now an obstacle. The call lasted for longer than I had been on campus. I did not want to hang up. I knew that if I did, then I’d have to return to freedom.
Despite being alone, I made it through the night and awoke to the unknown. I did not wake up to my mother’s call or the smell of my dad’s coffee like I knew so dearly. Instead, I woke to a harsh voice and unfamiliar scents. I struggled through the first day of classes. I could only think about the end of the day when I could call home. The time slowly came. I sprinted through the school and back to dorm. As I ran, I frantically plugged the phone number into my phone as to not waste a second. My parents picked up and I felt instantly at ease. The phone call made me feel at home, lasting less time than previous.
A few days passed and my pattern continued, struggling through classes and calling my parents, my one escape from freedom and my own decisions. As more days passed, I soon spent less time on the phone and more time focusing on school. The joys from the first day were slowly seeping back into my life. I had become confident and able to be on my own.
The weeks continued to progress and so did my independence. My daily calls soon became weekly calls. The weekly calls became monthly calls. The monthly calls soon turned to no calls.
I finished out the year of school and missed my independence over the summer that I had worked so hard to achieve. My parents had taken it away from me almost as soon as I had seemed to acquire it. I felt restricted. I spent my summer awaiting the start of the school year, where I could get away from my parents and into freedom.
The school year came around and I headed back up to school. Once again I was eager, but I was confident this time. I moved into school and my parents were soon ready to depart. I gave them both a big hug. A hug that guided me through life. I realized that I had wasted my summer. Life was not only about freedom, it was about balancing freedom and restrictions. I had grown too free at school and I had let restrictions float away. Too much freedom would get me in trouble. A road I was close to heading down. The hug ended and I frantically promised that I would call twice a week, a perfect balance of freedom and restrictions. A balance that brought me into adulthood.