I had heard all the horror roommate stories of them turning out to be psychopaths. But, lucky for me, all those assumptions were wrong. I may have gotten lucky, but I can confidently say my roommate is my best friend. She deals with all the things my Mom hated about my room back home. Yet, my roommate still loves me for who I am.
The night before my firstborn left for his freshman year of college he strolled into the kitchen with his mp3 player blasting -- one earbud was tucked into his left ear and the other was wedged in his bellybutton. I gave him the requisite maternal smile and eye roll, but felt a pang -- his goofy boy humor would no longer be part of my everyday life.
30 years ago my mom roomed in the dorm right next door. Weird, right? She says it was a lot different back then. Most significant was the fact that she could drink at 18. My mother says she was able to party, pay for school through loans, and get a job that paid it all back. So, what will this mean for me?