Day: September 12, 2025
Courtesy of Jimmie Williams
- Before move-in, my son asked for two days of no contact after we said goodbye.
- On campus, we had just 15 minutes to say goodbye, but we felt the magnitude.
- I didn’t contact him for two days, and it helped me reset my new life.
A week before college move-in, my son asked that my partner and I not contact him for two days. He wanted no calls or texts from us once we dropped him off on campus.
The ask landed like a hornet. It hurt.
Slowly, I came around to the idea. I realized he wanted space for himself, and I could appreciate that. I also realized that his absence from the house would be an adjustment for me, too. Perhaps his no-contact rule would help me acclimate to this new life, too.
As my son started college, we all had to learn new rituals, new ways to support him, and new ways for us to grow.
I saw my son living on campus for the first time
We drove to his college with the usual mix of conversation, bathroom stops, naps, music, and his video games.
The university’s move-in was a practiced choreography. The campus move-in volunteers materialized. Digital keys activated. Our plan to carry boxes together was replaced by a small army that whisked his belongings upstairs while we tried to keep up.
That night, there was an induction ceremony, which included the presentation of their future graduation tassels. It marked the beginning.
After dinner, my son asked us to drop him off at the quad, and he rushed off to a late campus event. It was our first glimpse of what the boundary would look like in real time. He would step toward his new life, and I would practice stepping back.
The last 15 minutes
The next day, we gave ourselves permission to linger without hovering. Then, at 3:45 p.m., the clock moved from background noise to the center of the moment. My son checked the time and said, “We have 15 minutes for pictures and goodbyes. I have a dorm meeting at 4:00, and I don’t want to be late.”
We took quick photos at the campus sign where we’d posed on our campus tour.
Back in the residence hall, the energy said it without words: families were leaving. RAs stood ready for floor introductions, and doors clicked open and shut. I felt like a ghost in a place that was rapidly becoming his.
There was no speech to make. We had said what mattered over years, not minutes. We hugged without fanfare, and he turned toward his meeting. Three of us had walked in, and two of us had walked out. We did not look back.
I stuck to his request of no contact
The drive home was quiet. The dog slept in the back seat. When we reached our house, an even deeper quiet met us at the door, and it was too much. We called a close family friend and went out for a late drink. We scrolled through photos of our son as a child and on campus.
The next couple of days were the strangest part. We passed our son’s room and paused at the closed door. The dog slept in front of it. We did not cook. We stopped whiteboard family scheduling. Our feelings were layered: happy, sad, proud.
But we kept the boundary he requested. We did not call or text. In making room for him to begin, we made room for ourselves to start again. The two days with no contact gave us time to settle into our new normal, too.
My life looks different now without my son
We have a few rituals now: a dinner on the books with his roommate’s family, a hotel room reserved for the early fall Family Day, and a private promise to answer on the first ring when the quiet window closes — whether it is a text about laundry, a picture from the quad or on the picturesque campus, or the expected “please add cash to my account.”
If there is a lesson in that 15-minute window, it is this: the goodbye is not a cliff. It is a handoff at jogging pace. He did not run, and we did not implode. We all kept moving, maybe with more precision than needed, but toward the lives we have been preparing for.
Recent findings reveal that the high seas, which make up nearly two-thirds of the world’s oceans and are critical to both marine ecosystems and global climate regulation, face unprecedented threats due to human activity. These waters, vital for biodiversity and carbon storage, remain inadequately protected against overfishing, pollution, and the impacts of climate change, reports 24brussels.
The high seas encompass areas of the ocean beyond the 200 nautical mile Exclusive Economic Zones (EEZ) of any nation. As a vital component of Earth’s life-support system, they host unique ecosystems, including migratory routes for species such as whales, sharks, and seabirds.
These expansive waters are a source of significant seafood for billions worldwide, with a 2018 study indicating that almost half of high seas fishing would not be profitable without government subsidies, underlining the industry’s heavy reliance on political support.
Why the High Seas Matter
Often referred to as the “blue heart” of our planet, the high seas are fundamental to the ocean’s ecological balance. They house critical fisheries and unique ecosystems, such as hydrothermal vents, where life thrives without sunlight. The high seas are not only essential for marine life but also for the livelihoods of millions dependent on ocean resources.
In addition to their ecological importance, the high seas contain undiscovered microbiomes that hold promise for medical advancements, including potential cancer treatments. This genetic reservoir exemplifies the potential of the high seas as a scientific frontier.
The Threats Facing the High Seas
Historically regarded as immune to significant human threats, the high seas are now at the center of a pressing ecological crisis. Overfishing, primarily conducted by industrial fleets from affluent nations, disproportionately targets slow-maturing species, disrupting entire ecosystems and depleting fish populations.
Emerging threats such as deep-sea mining have prompted experts to caution against the irreversible destruction of these ecosystems, which have taken millennia to develop. Recent discussions at the third United Nations Ocean Conference in Nice, France, underscored global leaders’ calls for a moratorium on deep-sea mining to protect the fragile biodiversity of these regions.
In addition, plastic pollution poses a significant challenge, as ocean currents collect waste into vast garbage patches, leading to microplastics infiltrating deep-sea trenches and marine food chains. Climate change exacerbates these issues, causing ocean warming, acidification, and oxygen depletion, which endangers coral reefs and migratory species.
Governance Challenges: Who Owns the High Seas?
The governance of the high seas remains fragmented, as no single nation claims jurisdiction over these waters. International treaties, including the United Nations Convention on the Law of the Sea (UNCLOS), establish guidelines for navigation and resource management but lack comprehensive protections for biodiversity.
While fisheries management falls under various Regional Fisheries Management Organizations, enforcement measures are inconsistent, facilitating exploitation by powerful countries and industries with minimal accountability. The notion of “freedom of the seas” has often translated into unchecked resource extraction, raising questions about long-term sustainability.
A Turning Point: The High Seas Treaty
In March 2023, the UN finalized the High Seas Treaty, known as the Biodiversity Beyond National Jurisdiction (BBNJ) Agreement, marking a pivotal advancement in international governance of these waters. The treaty aims to create Marine Protected Areas, regulate environmental impact assessments, and ensure equitable sharing of marine genetic resources.
If ratified by at least 60 countries, this treaty could align with global goals to protect 30% of the ocean by 2030, as established at the UN Biodiversity Conference in 2022. As of the last UN Ocean Conference in June, 50 nations had ratified the agreement, though challenges regarding enforcement, financing, and political will persist.
This treaty represents a historic acknowledgment that the high seas must be treated as shared resources, necessitating collective responsibility among nations.
A Critical Juncture
The future of the high seas is precarious, with scientific advancements and international cooperation countered by rapid industrial exploitation and climate change. Without decisive action, the high seas risk becoming impoverished ecosystems devoid of resilience and biodiversity.
However, with appropriate governance and collaboration, these waters can serve as a vital sanctuary for both human and marine life, preserving the ocean’s wealth for future generations. The high seas underscore a crucial reality: the ocean belongs to all of humanity, and safeguarding its future is a shared obligation.
