Moving Out

This week brought a major change to our lives. Our oldest child Luke moved out. Now we’ve been very spoiled. Our kids have been able to live with us at home while they attended college. (A branch of the University of Tennessee is only a few miles from our home.) And the kids decided to attend there while living at home and thus avoid student loan debt. So we got four more years than most parents get.

But this spring Luke and Ariel both graduated. And Monday, Luke moved to Knoxville to begin working on his PhD in chemistry, focusing on organo-metallics (making an organic molecule with a metal in it).

Of course, the move didn’t go quite like Luke thought. He’d done some sorting and packing in the days before his move, but he didn’t realize he had to pack everything or how long it would take. By lunchtime, Cal and I began helping.

And then, I mentioned to Jacob that the sooner Luke was out of the room, the sooner Jake could move in. (Jake and Matthew have shared a room their entire lives.) At that point, packing went really quickly—Jake is goal-oriented—he put Luke’s stuff in a box, taped it, scribbled a label, and moved it out. So we loaded up our truck and Luke’s car and headed north.

Here’s a photo.

I'm not sure why he likes that hat. It makes him look like Che Guevara, which he thinks is absolutely hilarious.

When we knocked on the door of Luke’s apartment (he’s sharing with two other grad students), braced myself for a grimy mess. A twenty-something guy with curly hair opened the door and invited us in. The apartment was neat and clean. Even the counters and the bathrooms were spotless. I’m still in shock. And I’m wondering if I can hire them.

As for Luke, he’s fine. I talked with him briefly on Friday. According to Luke, work is good, the apartment is good, his roommates are good, and cooking for himself is good. Then, I passed the phone to Cal and they spend fifteen minutes discussing the last Yankees’ game. Yep, everything is good.