Chapter 1: Goodnight Sweet Prince

"Bandaids, cough syrup, aspirin, rubbing alchohol," my mother ran through an inventory of the medical supplies in my bathroom cabinet. "Oh no," she muttered to herself. "We forgot the gauze."

"What, are we making sure the kid's ready for college or sending him off to war?" Emma, my other mom joked.

"Emma, I am letting my baby boy be on his own for the first time, and he is going to be prepared in case of an emergency." Emma sighed.

"Alright kid," she said to me. "It looks like we're going back to the store again. Anything else you want us to pick up while we're there?"

"Yeah, maybe some more poptarts," I replied.

"Poptarts?" My mother exclaimed, as if a 7-year-old had just asked for icecream for breakfast.

"What flavor?" Emma asked.

I scoffed. "Is that even a question?"

"Brown sugar cinnamon." Emma deduced. "You got it, kid."

"Those sugary toaster pastries do not make a healthy breakfast for a growing boy," my mother continued. Emma gave me a wink behind my mother's back as they walked out the door and I grinned, knowing I was getting those poptarts.

I opened another box and proceeded to fill up my drawers with the clothes my mother had so neatly folded for me. This would probably be the last time my shirts would be this wrinkle free. At least until I go back home for Christmas in 4 months, I reminded myself, determined not to tear up at laundry.

I had two other roommates. Technically they were my suitemates, as we each had our own teeny tiny bedrooms but shared a cramped common area that contained a kitchen, dining room, and living room, while occupying the square footage of half my mother's kitchen. Did I mention everything at college is small and cramped? We do get a tiny little sink, microwave, and fridge, though. So that's nice.

I was the first to move in. Next came Timmy, a skinny Asian boy who said he was majoring in graphic design. That seems to be the main question you ask people when you don't know what to say to them. What's your major?

"Hey, dude," a skinny Asian boy said to me as he set down some boxes in the common area. "I'm Timmy."

"Henry," I introduced myself.

"Graphic design" he said, matter-of factly.

"Huh?" I asked.

"My major," he explained. "That just seems to be the question college people ask each other when they don't know what else to say." He shrugged awkwardly.

"Yeah, well I guess the infamous 'so where are you going to college?' question of our senior year just seems kind of outdated now." He chuckled and started unpacking boxes as his family moved in some more of his stuff.

"Wow," a younger girl who I assumed was his little sister exclaimed. "This place is actually really clean."

I grinned. "Yeah, my moms spent a good bit of yesterday morning sanitizing every inch of this place. Although to be fair, there's not that many square inches in this place."

"Moms?" Timmy asked, raising an eyebrow. I shrugged it off, not really feeling like drawing out the complicated family tree for someone I had barely known for an hour.

"It's complicated." I explained.

"Nah, man. It's cool," Timmy reassured me. "I liked modern things."

"Yeah," the girl confirmed. "You are standing in the presence of one of the few people on Earth with an appreciation for modern 'art'" she put that last word in air quotes.

"Hey twerp," he said seriously, as if that were her real name. "Shut-up." I watched them argue for a little while. As an only child, I have always been fascinated by sibling bickering.

The next and final roommate to arrive was Nate. He had blonde hair, blue eyes, and dressed like he had just stepped out of Plesantville. He was majoring in architectural engineering, and took it upon himself to rearrange what little furniture we had into an arrangement that was more pleasing to him.

The two of them really hit it off when Nate brought out his Xbox and the two of them started playing some graphic shooting game. I retreated to my room and played some music in my headphones in an attempt to drown out the noise.

I flopped down on my bed, grateful that my mom had insisted on getting me a mattress pad to make my bed more comfortable. I felt a slight crinkling of paper under my pillow and reached my hand underneath to find a note.

Dear Henry,

I'm sure we've probably told you how much we love you and will miss you about a thousand times already, but I couldn't resist telling you one last time how much I love you and how proud I am of the man my little boy has become.

Goodnight my sweet prince.

It was the strangest thing. Even though the note was short, my eyes started tearing up. And then I could see myself as my mom. I could feel the joy she felt as she held this little baby boy in her arms for the first time. I could feel her frustration when her two-year-old added red crayon drawings to her pristine black and white wallpaper of her office. I could feel her sadness as she sat on my bed crying into my pillow after her prince denounced her as an evil queen and left her for his other mother and grandparents.

I could feel the passion of a mother's love. It was like I had left my own body and entered hers.

And flights of angels sing thee to thy rest, I muttered to myself as I turned off the light and closed my tear-filled eyes. I was really going to miss my family, but I would see them soon enough. Now was time for a new adventure.