Mom ' s Tour de ForceBy Aimee Cirucci A mother understands what a child does not say . ~ Jewish Proverb I ' ve never been a fan of arranged marriages , not that I ' ve found the right person on my own , but I certainly can ' t imagine my parents being able to find that person . However , it dawned on me recently that I did something quite similar -- I let my mother make one of the most important decisions of my life , one that lead to a marriage of sorts . .. I let her pick my college . How we got there is interesting , and how it all turned out proves that despite all the stress , work , and sometimes strife involved , the college admissions process does work out in the end . A high school overachiever and the first child leaving the nest , my college decision process was more dramatic than a night at the opera . .. and on a few occasions we wondered if the fat lady ever would sing . It all started in my sophomore year of high school when my ( equally overachieving ) parents decided we should get a leg up on the admissions process . I remember leafing through the large college guide I was given one cold winter weekend and highlighting those schools which interested me . It should come as no surprise then that most of them fell below the Mason - Dixon Line , and I ultimately ended up in North Carolina . But to get there my mother and I embarked on a journey that took us from the mountains of Tennessee to the banks of Lake Michigan and proved just how blessed I was . You see , decisiveness is not my gift . And my mother indulged what I now realize was an absolutely erratic college visitation spree spurred on by my inability to make a decision . It began slowly with visits tacked onto family vacations . I toured Tulane when my father had business meetings in New Orleans and William and Mary over a holiday trip to Williamsburg . But as I edged closer to senior year , with nary an idea of where I would end up , there was an increased urgency . Soon my mom was leading our team of two . She created a handwritten spreadsheet to record information and my feedback on all of the twelve schools to which I applied . Our dining room table became College Central , as mom rewrote my college applications in her neat and steady print , kept us on deadline , and charted a series of road trips . My path to college consumed both of us . Mom was my partner , someone just as vested as me , someone who understood the trepidation , the work , and exasperation involved in getting into college . Mom tracked down a former admissions counselor to answer our questions ; she scheduled campus interviews , tours , and our accommodations around her work and my school . And we were off ! We visited so many schools : big schools , small schools , urban and rural schools , from the blue hens to the spiders , and many schools in between . Sometimes my father came with us , sometimes my best friend , or grandmother . But often we were on our own . And that ' s the way I liked it best . Despite my initial yearning for some place warm , the idea of attending Northwestern University , in Evanston , Illinois , lodged itself in my head like a pesky sinus infection . I toured the school and interviewed with a college representative , and then I was promptly rejected . Unfortunately , I had so obsessed over Northwestern that nowhere else seemed suitable . I baked and devoured an entire apple pie out of self - pity and then announced that I was no longer interested in any other schools . Looking at me across the dining room table , it ' s a miracle that mom didn ' t throttle me with our heavy college guidebook ; instead ( thankfully ) she did what she does best ; she turned the situation positive , planned an impromptu trip and we were off . .. again ! In Nashville , we got our first taste of country music ; in Virginia , we saw the northernmost palm tree ; and in Delaware , my parents offered me a new car if I chose the state university . But yet , I was paralyzed : nervous and frightened , stubborn and unable to make a decision . The last school we visited was Wake Forest University in Winston - Salem , North Carolina . We almost didn ' t get there , as midway through the eight - hour drive , I announced in dramatic fashion that I still believed Northwestern was the only place for me . Mom pulled to the side of the road and said , " If you ' re not going to give this place a chance , I am going to turn around right now instead of wasting our time . " She wasn ' t messing around . And she was right . I shut up , and we continued . Arriving in Winston - Salem , we drove up a tree - lined hill that opened on a vast expanse of green . " It ' s beautiful , " my mother said . But I scowled , reluctant to make a fast judgment , or even worse , be pushed to like it . After the campus tour , mom was obviously excited , " So what do you think ? " she asked . I mumbled something about the sports arena being too far from campus , an amusing complaint from a girl who had no interest in sports . I was still stuck and my mom could see it . The deposit would be due soon , and my parents had already spent untold amounts of time and money trying to help me . It was time to draw a line in the campus dirt . My mother made it clear that they would not be paying two deposits . " Aimee , " she said , " Wake has a great reputation ; it ' s small , but not too small . Look around you -- it ' s beautiful , the people are kind and it feels like a family . What ' s not to like ? " I didn ' t answer . She continued , " I think I am going to go buy a sticker for our car , what do you say ? " I agreed , not feeling compelled to argue about a sticker , able to accept it mentally by telling myself , " it ' s just a sticker after all . " But we both knew it was more . That night on the phone in our hotel room , I heard my mom tell my dad , as if in code , " Well , we bought a sticker for the car , Dan . " And I think they both breathed a sigh of relief . The sticker was the type of commitment that I could handle . My mother knew me and it seems she knew her psychology as well . The sticker turned into the deposit , and the deposit turned into enrollment . And at the end of my freshman year , my mother and I again looked over that vast green expanse of campus together . This time things were different . This time it was my home . We were swinging on swings that had been installed as a student art project . They were engraved with words like " dream " and " trust " and " hope " and " love " and I was crying because I did indeed love this place . That I had fallen in love so quickly and completely , after so much hesitancy and doubt , made it all the sweeter and leaving it , even just for the summer , was one of the hardest things I had to do . My mother knew this . That was why we were on the swings . Just as I had to take baby steps to get to this place , I too had to take baby steps to leave it . So we swung for a while , and then Mom said , " Aimee . .. time to go . " And though I didn ' t want to , I felt compelled to trust her . And as we walked up the hill to our car , where a streetlight illuminated the sticker that started it all , I knew why . --- The End --- from chickensoup . com 사업자 정보 표시 | | | 사업자 등록 번호 : -- | TEL : -- | 사이버 몰의 이용 약관 바로 가 기