08/09/2026
To everyone dropping their young people at university for the first time this month.
It’s a strange time, isn’t it. The car boot full of pans they’ll never use. The shopping list that somehow includes a colander and a first aid kit and 40 pairs of socks. The counting down and the not wanting to count down at the same time.
And underneath it all, that quiet ache nobody warns you about. You’ve spent eighteen years making yourself gradually less necessary, and now the plan has worked, which is honestly a bit much.
They’re feeling it too, even if they won’t say so. They’ll be homesick in week three and won’t tell you. They’ll ring at 11pm because the washing machine ate a duvet cover. They’ll go quiet for four days and then send you a cat meme!
Being there for them now means being available rather than involved. Answer the phone. Send the odd daft message with nothing attached, no questions, no checking in. Let them work out the timetable, the flatmate, the budget on their own. What they need is to know the line is open, not that you’re sitting waiting at the end of it.
It’s a lopsided sort of love for a while. They won’t be there for you the way you’re there for them. That’s not them failing. That’s it going right.
Be kind to yourselves over the next few weeks. Cry in the car park, then get a coffee.
And keep your phone handy, because “I’m an adult and I can do what I like” and “can you transfer £100 into my account” are about to become the same sentence. 💙
