Independence by Daniel
The first time I realized I had become independent was at the very end of move-in day.
I was lounging in the relative comfort of the dorm room bed I had just laid my sheets on. My muscles ached from lifting hefty, oddly shaped objects up flights of stairs and through the busting crowds of other freshmen lifting their own heavy, oddly shaped object up to their own rooms.
Despite the setting of the sun, the air still seared with heat. The sweat dripped off me as I fantasized about being in one of the buildings with air conditioning. The tiny fan I had purchased for the room blew its lackluster breeze on my feet from the windowsill.
I turned my head and saw the mound of bright blue rectangular containers I had packed my life into just that morning, and I suddenly realized nobody was going to ask me to take my belongings out of them and organize them into the drawers of my new dresser. The decision was entirely up to me whether or not to jar open the drawers of my dresser and get things organized. I could not help but crack a great big smile at myself.
I got up out of bed, clambered down on the narrow rungs of my bunk and hefted the topmost container over to my dresser. Then I began to unpack my tightly packed socks into my top drawer. I had achieved independence, and I honestly couldn’t have been happier with myself.