This week I said goodbye to my 18-year-old son, Peter, as he left home for his first year of college in Miami. When we moved to Atlanta 6 years ago Peter was just a boy, on the brink of adolescence. This week he walked out our door a man. He also walked out the door with his entire bedroom stuffed into his car. This came as a great surprise to me given that he had not packed any suitcases or boxes the night before his departure. He had neatly stacked about 15 shoeboxes (with shoes inside) outside his room along with a monopoly game, and a baseball bat and mitt. A pile of shirts were draped over the sofa. When I turned in for the night, I said good-bye to my boy and reminded him to finish cleaning out his drawers and closet, something that I have been asking him to do for the last six months. Sadly, Peter left the next day while I was at work. When I returned home my husband informed me that Peter had invited friends over to help him pack his car and that he had left the upstairs, his man cave, pretty clean. I was suspicious since I have not seen his room clean in the last 5 years, but I was too emotional to check it out until today. When I peered into his room I was shocked. The top of his desk was visible and little was left on his shelves. I was able to walk into his room without stepping on clothes. The real surprise was that his nightstand drawers were empty and his closet was almost bare. A small chest of drawers was missing and his rock collection was gone. I can’t imagine how he managed to load all his stuff into his little Audi. I hope his roommate packed a small suitcase.