Texas A&M – Move-In Day

Boxes, Masks, and Big Emotions: Moving My Daughter into Her Texas A&M Dorm

There are moments in life that hit you like a ton of bricks wrapped in nostalgia—and moving your daughter into her college dorm is one of them. This past weekend, we packed up the car, loaded it with everything from twin XL sheets to emotional baggage, and headed to College Station to officially launch my daughter’s freshman year at Texas A&M.

It was a big day. A proud day. A day filled with excitement, chaos, and just enough COVID protocol to keep things interesting.

🎓 The Road to Aggieland

The drive up was a mix of upbeat playlists, nervous chatter, and me pretending I wasn’t emotionally unraveling every time she said, “I can’t believe I’m actually going to college.” We had the car packed tighter than a game day tailgate cooler—pillows, storage bins, snacks, and a mini fridge that somehow took up half the backseat.

We arrived at Texas A&M greeted by masked volunteers, directional signage, and a buzz of energy that could only come from thousands of students simultaneously realizing they’re about to live with strangers and do their own laundry.

😷 COVID Protocols: The New Normal

Let’s talk about the elephant in the room—or rather, the hand sanitizer station in every room. Yes, we’re still living under COVID protocols, which meant temperature checks, staggered move-in times, and a lot of “please keep six feet apart” reminders.

We wore masks, sanitized everything, and tried not to touch elevator buttons with our bare fingers. It was like playing a game of “Don’t Touch That” while carrying a box of shower caddies and trying not to cry.

But you know what? It worked. The staff was organized, the students were respectful, and the Aggie spirit was alive and well—even behind face coverings.

📦 The Move-In Madness

Her dorm room was a blank canvas: white walls, tile floors, and a bed that looked like it had been designed by someone who hates backs. We got to work transforming it into a cozy haven—string lights, posters, throw pillows, and a desk setup that screamed “I will definitely procrastinate here.”

There were moments of comedy, like when we realized we brought three extension cords and zero hangers. Or when I tried to assemble a storage shelf and ended up with something that looked like abstract art. Saydie (my daughter) was patient, focused, and somehow already knew where everything should go. I was mostly just trying not to trip over her new rug.

🧃 The Emotional Gut Punch

At some point, I looked around and realized: this is it. This is her new home. Her new chapter. Her leap into independence. And while I was bursting with pride, I was also holding back tears like a champ.

We hugged. We laughed. We took a million photos. I gave her a speech that started strong and ended with, “Please don’t forget to eat vegetables.”

She rolled her eyes, hugged me again, and said, “I’ll be fine, Dad.” And I believed her.

🍂 The Goodbye

Walking away from that dorm room was one of the hardest things I’ve done. Not because I didn’t want her to grow—but because she’s grown so beautifully. She’s ready. She’s brave. And she’s about to take on Texas A&M like the rockstar she is.

I got in the car, took a deep breath, and drove away with a heart full of pride and a trunk full of leftover snacks she “didn’t have room for.”

🐾 Gig ’Em, Freshman Year

This year will be different. COVID protocols will shape the experience. Zoom classes might still pop up. Social distancing will be part of the routine. But if there’s one thing I know—it’s that Aggies are resilient. And my daughter? She’s going to thrive.

Here’s to a year of growth, grit, and gallons of hand sanitizer. To dorm room memories, late-night study sessions, and finding your tribe. And to every parent who’s ever had to say goodbye at a college drop-off—solidarity, my friends.

Gig ’Em, Saydie. You’ve got this.

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