A Weekend at Wilson U

Miranda Byrne arrived in Horswick exactly when she'd planned to, 1:30 P.M. When she stepped out of the cafe near the freeway she sent off the quick text her daughter had asked her to send. It had been two months since Rachel had gone off to college, and that was two months longer than Miranda had ever been away from her baby. Rachel was the eldest daughter and the most responsible, and it had felt like cutting off her own arm to drop her off at Wilson that day in late August, but it had also been the right thing to do. Horswick and Wilson University had been where Miranda had truly come into her own, and even where she'd met Rachel's father Terry. They'd gotten married right out of school and nine months later Rachel had come along. That was almost twenty years ago; this summer she'd celebrated her fortieth birthday. It was almost impossible to believe.

She got back into the car and revved it up for the remaining few miles of the trip. Rachel had been assigned a place in Hansen Hall, the same building she'd called home back in the day. History really did repeat itself. Miranda thought she could smell the creaky old place from here, but she knew she was only imagining things. When she parked on a side street and hit the sidewalk, she discovered Rachel still hadn't answered her message. According to the read receipts she hadn't even looked at it. A little smile grew on her face. The only thing better than seeing her daughter again after so long was surprising her, and she relished it. Remembering the gift she had brought, she doubled back to the car and grabbed the brown paper bag out of the back seat. A bottle of wine. Of course, Rachel wouldn't be of legal drinking age for another two years, but what parent thought that their child was going to be a teetotaler? There was nothing wrong with a drink here or there. Besides, her Rach had always been so *serious*. Someone needed to give her a hand in lightening up.

A helpful freshman held the door open for her to get into Hansen Hall, and Miranda stepped into that building she had once known so well. When she had dropped Rachel off a few days before orientation week, she had been shocked to find out that it had barely been renovated at all in the last twenty years. It made her think it probably hadn't changed much in the twenty years before that, too. She strode over to the elevator doors, her heels *clacking* on the faux tile floors all the way. Her daughter's room was on the fifth floor. One above 419, where Miranda herself had been quartered. It would've made for a better view if Horswick hadn't grown up to tight around the building in that same time. The elevator doors opened and she stepped inside, face to face with herself in that same old mirror. The features looking back at her, at least, *had* been renovated. By time, that is. There were crow's feet now at the corner of her eyes. That was the result of three kids in five years. And she had put on a little weight, though only fifteen pounds thanks to regular Pilates classes and gym workouts. She also dressed completely differently. Today she was wearing an orange-brown sleeveless dress that ended just below the knees. That was a bit of vanity. She was still very proud of her legs. And her hair! While plenty of other moms at her children's school had already gone white, she had only streaks of gray in the brown hair Rachel had inherited. With the tip of her finger, Miranda pushed a stray lock back behind her ear. She had to look her best for her daughter.

The elevator doors opened once more and revealed a dorm hallway like any other. A shaggy-haired blond boy passed her in a nightrobe, even though it was nearly two P.M. *Does that make him early, or late?* she thought. Most likely he'd just gotten up. Late nights studying were not kind to a young person's internal timekeeping systems. Following the signs, she made her way to room 509. Polaroid pictures hung from nearly every square inch of the door, almost entirely of Rachel and a whole lot of people Miranda had never seen in her life. Boys and girls alike. Her heart leaped with joy. Some part of her had worried that people wouldn't appreciate her daughter properly here. That had been nothing but paranoia. Rachel often kept to herself, but she was a dazzling star when a person got to know her.

Miranda knocked on the door. "Coming!" said Rachel from inside, and a few seconds later, there she was! Miranda took in a deep breath at the sight of her, and had to try her level best not to let the tears forming in her eyes become anything more than that.

"Baby!" she said, throwing her arms around her daughter. Her purse slapped Rachel on the back, far too indelicate, and then Miranda pulled away to get a look at her.

"Mom," Rachel mumbled. She seemed totally shocked, like she hadn't known her mother was going to be there, though obviously she had. The girl's hair was cut short to her jaw in a very chic French bob. Her freckles were fading as summer passed into fall, but there was a beautiful color in her face. She was wearing a baggy long-sleeved shirt that fell away from her shoulder, making her look like an eighties aerobic instructor, and a pair of cotton pajama shorts.