Collegians Return To Nest

They're baaaaacckkk!

Yeah, like you didn't have the same thought when you saw them pull up in the driveway, fresh from college. And while they may not be as sinister as the spirits from "Poltergeist," they can be just as destructive.

At least the spirits know how to close a door. And they have a lot less laundry to do.

So, whether they're ghastly apparitions from beyond or just really, really in need of a haircut and a shave, the area's college-age children, having thrown off the shackles of semester tests and another year of higher education, are celebrating by coming home and passing out on their respective sofas, right before the Thunder-Clippers game.

Out, out, foul spirit! You reek of the grave! Or, perhaps that's just the tennis shoes.

Having your college-age children return home after being away at school is, largely, a joy, mostly, a pleasure, certainly, an abject lesson in just how quickly a person can go from reasonably civilized to feral. Apparently, about nine months. Maybe less.

In fact, the realization that any and all attempts at housebreaking your teenager may have fallen prey to the reality of cafeteria (read "I don't have to clean up after myself") dining and the generally shaky personal hygiene requirements of Finals Week may be just one of the "adjustments" parents will make over the next few weeks.

It's a multi-faceted project that begins with the phrase "Honey, we're so glad to have you home," and continues with "So, plan to sleep all day?" Then it becomes "You know, that sink, it's just inches away from the dishwasher. Really hasn't moved since you were gone." The conversation makes its way to "Lots of kids get a real jump on the year at summer school."

Eventually, the theme music for the whole thing goes from "Celebrate Me Home," to "How Can I Miss You If You Won't Go Away?"

Of course, parents aren't the only ones who have to make an adjustment. It has to be a little disconcerting to return home to the bosom of your family and discover the folks who repeatedly said they didn't know how they could live without you seem to have pulled it off quite nicely.

And to realize most of the mementos of your previous life appear to have been boxed up and shipped off to a new location in the attic, where they occupy an area significantly more spacious than what's left of your room after it's been turned into a guest hostel/gym/sewing parlor/man cave.

Compound this by the fact that your children are still operating in a world where 9:30 a.m. classes are viewed as the crack of dawn, the evening doesn't begin until 10 p.m. and doesn't end until they've scraped together enough change from the car cup holders and ash tray to, barely, pay for a waffle at IHOP as the sun comes up.

Add to it the reality that you, yourself, have become somewhat adjusted to there being hot water available in the shower, gas in your car's tank and leftovers being, you know, left over in your fridge.

You're pretty happy the utility companies aren't called, just to see how you're doing, since your various usages have fallen off so much. You've grown accustomed to there actually being shampoo left in the bottle, which is actually left in the shower. And you're not sure exactly what "The Carrie Diaries" are, but you're pretty confident the phrase "over-sharing" applies.

At this point, you begin to realize that having college-age children home for the summer is much like the entire child-rearing process in general. Some bitter, some sweet, a lot of mess and breakage, conflict mixed with laughter, joy with sadness. And a huge pile of dirty clothes.

You begin to realize that, whether you are embracing this or just counting the days until fall, the reality is, again, like childhood itself, this is about to pass. You're closer to the end than the beginning. Chances are the various commitments and opportunities and flat out desire not to leave their college town will keep them there next summer, and the summers after. And then, hopefully, eventually, it will be the real world. And your home won't be their home anymore.

And you're probably OK with that. It's varying degrees of "great" to have the kids back home, but part of being a parent is knowing you've prepared them to journey confidently into the great big world outside your door. And that Man Cave is pretty cool, too.

Life goes on. It already has.

GARY SMITH IS A RECOVERING JOURNALIST LIVING IN ROGERS.

Commentary on 05/15/2014

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