Sarah never left for college- she drifted into it. Her school of choice was the University of Cincinnati, about 15 miles from my father’s condo. For years, Sarah said she wanted to leave home, but as the deadline to choose a school approached, she decided it would be better to stay at home. At least it wasn’t Huntington, she said.
So she started college, the next stage of her life, with no teary goodbyes or
sad scenes. She just got up one day and drove to class. It was a smooth transition.
Or, so she thought.
Her freshman year was my senior year. I had been doing the college thing for
four years and had the hang of it. I knew exactly how long I could wait until
I HAD to study for a test. I was used to all nighters. Four hours sleep? That’s
nothing.
But to Sarah, it was unusual. She needed her 8 hours, and when she didn’t,
panic would set in. I would receive frantic calls at midnight, with Sarah asking
me to help her write a paper or study for a test. “Please Manny, would
you look over this paper for me? Maybe write one extra paragraph?” she’d
say. “You are almost a professional at editing, Manny. You are the best.”
Sometimes I would do it. Often, I wouldn’t. Of course, she would get mad.
But I was here, and she was there, and her pouting couldn’t sway me. It
was tough love, at it’s finest.
She has almost completed her first full year of college, and is doing great.
She has learned the lessons of college; sometimes you have to stay up late,
eyes bleary and head throbbing, to get the job done. And you have to do it yourself,
although your sister will be there, always, to help you when you need it most.