Our daughter is going to her first prom Saturday night. I admit, I’ve been kinda grouchy about having to do her hair and makeup and the million hours we’ve spent looking for THE dress and THE shoes and THE gloves and THE purse and THE hair decoration thingee. EVERYTHING had to be just perfect.
Then she went and tried the outfit on…and stood at the top of the stairs…and was absolutely beautiful. It struck me so hard that next year is her last year of high school and then she’s off to college. Never to really be ours again.
I went to the garage and cried and smoked for about an hour. My husband has been kinda feeling the same way so we commiserated together.
I remember my prom, it was the most special night of my life. My stop-monster ( she has graduated to step mom since) leant us her car. Scott has his beginners, but I had a licence, so he drove us, and it was legal.
Some people dont remember their prom in the same rosy glow that I do, but I was desperately in love with Scott, and he was my very best friend…we never crossed that line, each afraid the other didnt feel the same. The moved across Canada 2 weeks after the prom. As the played " Dont Dream Its Over" by Cutting Crew, I wept, and told him I loved him, he replied in kind.
As painful as it was to lose him, that is the joy I felt being with him on that special night, I felt like a princess!
So Trisha, do her hair, her make up, and be always in her heart for helping her feel beautiful on this special night. And after she heads out the door, you and hubby get really sloppy drunk and remember the little girl she was.
I don’t have truly direct knowledge, since I don’t have offspring, but I do have a niece and a nephew (not brother and sister). Three years ago, when they were fifteen and sixteen, there was a wedding in the family and the two of them were, of course, dressed in almost prom-like outfits for the occasion (looking most beautiful/handsome, by the way, as well as terribly mature). When I saw them, I was completely floored - for the first time it hit home how grown up they were becoming and how close to moving on to adult lives. That day specifically marked the time I would no longer see them as “kids”. Bittersweet, without a doubt - all the more if they are your own, I’m sure.