Expecting our usual 40-second conversation, I was alarmed to hear an entire sentence: “Ma, I need help!”

AT the end of August, my son left home for the first time, to learn in an out-of-town yeshivah. For context, he is 16 years old, the oldest of seven children. Which means nothing, since he’s male.

I bought him a complete wardrobe before he left. This included 14 brand-new shirts (three for Shabbos, nine for weekday). Charles Tyrwhitt shirts, of course. Is there any other kind?

Despite my lack of hard evidence, he seemed to settle in well. I would have liked to hear more details (actual first names of roommates or chavrusas, for example) but I settled for generalities (“guys”). I mean, everyone goes away to yeshivah. What could go wrong, right?

After two weeks, I got a phone call. Expecting our usual 40-second conversation, I was alarmed to hear an entire sentence: “Ma, I need help!”

I knew this out-of-town thing was a mistake.

Trying not to let my panic show, I said only, “What’s wrong?”

Another full sentence: “I need to wash my shirts and I don’t know how.”