I Was Fine at College Drop-Off Until I Wasn’t

I impress myself with my calmness and my cheerfulness as we unload the bags and boxes and haul them up the stairwell. I usually wear my heart on my sleeve. I am Type A all the way, but on the day that I move my youngest child into college, I don’t shed a single tear. Not that I’d not cried on that campus before.

After proofing countless essays, offering up my credit card for a year’s worth of wine in application fees, listening in on Skyped interviews, trips to schools across the country, cou...