It's official - I am getting old. This past weekend I went to my daughter's home to take pictures of HER daughter on her way to Junior Prom. Her date was a tad late and she paced back and forth in her own quiet anxiety. But she was stunning...I mean really stunning.
As all the Grandma's and Mom snapped pictures, I was struck how confident and poised she seemed to be at nearly 17. I remember my first prom vividly, and at no time did I ever have my granddaughter's elegance or grace or looks, for that matter.
My own Mom taught me how to sew when I was ten, so by my junior year in high school, I was making my own clothes. Sew a prom dress? No problem. I chose a pale blue brocade to go to the floor. It was shimmering, sleeveless and had a bell shaped skirt. Remember those?
I spent the night at my friends house closer to town, as I lived out in BFE, aka the country. We spent hours the afternoon of the big event, experimenting with the perfect shade of pink lipstick, wrapping our shoulder length hair in tin can rollers to ensure the best possible "flip". Remember those?
Our dates arrived in some beat-up old Chevy that had a carburator problem, giant corsages in hand. Back then the dates tried to match the flowers to the dress, but not to the perfection the boys do today...their cumberbunds even match the girls gown (I'm thinkin' the Moms help out here). But like the boys of yesteryear, kids still date in packs at this age, more comfortable about being in a group than the awkwardness of a real date.
So on this special evening, my daughter drove the lovely Miss K. and her grinning-from-ear-to-ear date over to a friend's house for a meet-up, and Mom reported that despite her Miss America beauty, gorgeous dress and four inch heels, she was nervous, giggly, forgot her date's dance bid, and was generally wired for sound! It was, after all, her first real date. Just like her Mom...just like me at my first prom.
You remember, don't you? Did you have fun at your first Prom?
Laurel. Enjoy being a grandparent.