on Prom Night

All of the plans had been made… the dresses had been shopped for, under the supervision of doting mothers, and the tuxes had been ordered. Every hairdresser in town had filled their schedules with appointments for the perfect hair style.

You could feel the stress in the air… and the anticipation. The florists had extra hands in the back of the shops, tying wrist bands with beautiful orchids and greenery. The aroma in the showroom was confusing to the senses… a mix of so many perfumed works of nature’s art. There were the last minute phone calls to the restaurants, confirming reservations. There were trips to the mall for just the right shoes and just the right jewelry.

All of the plans were complete and the night of the Senior Prom was here. I watched Cody inspecting his tux. He fingered through the little zip lock bag of metal buttons and cufflinks. We adjusted his one size fits all suspenders that tucked neatly under his handsome vest. I crowded behind him under the curiosity of the younger children… there was a rhythmic motion as little hands smoothed out creases and pulled at his dressy jacket. I folded and tucked at the back of his collar while he looked in the large mirror through all of the activity. He asked me if it was hot in the house and I smiled as I told him he was probably nervous.

All of the parents and the young graduates gathered at a beautiful lake home. The sun was dipping in the sky and our children wondered in small groups… nervous and on the edge of discomfort with all of the attention put upon them. They were indulgent of us… they let us smooth the wrinkles of their clothes… they let us touch and pat at their hair and adjust their ties… they allowed us to tell them where to stand and how to pose. We, the parents with our cameras, directed them like they were young beyond their years… and they happily moved and crowded together… they smiled and laughed as we led them through the beginning of their evening… I was amazed at their patience…

The young men tugged at their collars and complained quietly about their shoes while the young ladies adjusted tufts of hair and re-applied shimmering lipstick. They stacked themselves into the limo with last minute words of advice and reassurances from us… everyone had enough money… everyone was comfortable and everyone had their phones with them… and they drove away from us as we watched with our memories in the spring evening air.

The calendar tells me it has been thirty years since I was in their shoes… how can it be? We stood together… the parents… without our babies. I watched the silence in the faces of mothers and fathers… I felt their thoughts. We had been there just yesterday… a yesterday that I hope they too will feel in some distant spring day… on prom night.

                                                               Shannon R Killman