THE PUBLIC SHELF

Open when you move out

Your first night in the new place will be too quiet. That's normal. Leave a lamp on in the kitchen. I did that for a month when I left home, and I never told your grandmother.

I walked past your room twice today before I remembered. It still smells like your shampoo and that candle you burned when you were stressed about finals. I'm not going to pack anything up for a while. Don't worry, I'm fine. I just want it to stay yours a little longer.

Here is what you know how to do, in case you're panicking.

You can cook four things well and eggs badly, which is enough.

You can unclog a sink with dish soap and hot water.

You can read a lease, even the boring part.

You can call me.

That last one is the most important. You can call me about the sink, or a bill you don't understand, or nothing at all. You don't have to need a reason.

I know you're excited. I know you've been ready for this for a while, and I'm proud that you are. I just wanted you to have something in the drawer that says: you didn't leave anyone behind. You took us with you. That's how it works.

Mom

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