Take My Hand

Here he was, doing the most unthinkably kind thing without even batting an eyelash.
Not that he would ever in his life bat an eyelash...but you get what I mean.
He was completely and totally surrendering his room. To me. All I had to do was say something and he gave it to me. He jumped through all the hoops housing put him through. And he got his own room.
In my opinion, although it meant less privacy, sharing a room was one of the most fundamentally fun things about moving away from home and going to college. It was the person that you would have normally not gotten to know under any other circumstances in the way you got to know them. And that inspired a sort of closeness. Still, he did get to live in the house. But I personally felt we were denying him some sort of universal rite of passage. It wasn't his fault we all had already decided to room together.
When I looked at him I had to laugh a little inside. He dressed like he hadn't quite figured out what fit him best yet--his jeans were boxy, like the kind you buy for little boys because they grow so fast. And his shoes were punk skater high school shoes with socks above his ankles. Hopefully with a year out of the house we would cure him of this. Ah. Another project in the making, I thought to myself. I was already planning on becoming extremely close with all my new found housemates.
They all had huge hearts...just like mine. I was ready to do this!

"Take my hand, there's a world I need to know, oh woh oh oh."
~ Phil Collins, from the Tarzan soundtrack