divinewrites

There’s a scene in Pretty in Pink (yes a total Gen Xer flick) where the title character, Andie, is contemplating skipping her prom. Her co-worker challenges her to think twice about skipping it, ending the scene with-“don’t analyze it, just go.” Prom season always hits me in a little harder spot than for most-for some extremely specific reasons.

This weekend I had the distinct honor and privilege to watch my oldest son make his way to his Junior Prom. It was an emotional time for me because I was fighting like hell to NOT remember what it was like almost 30 years ago. I wish I could describe what it was like for a 17-18 year old girl, watching her classmates pair off for a night out. In my high school in the mid 90’s, the prom committee had a tradition that, as the prom tickets were paid for and the couples were registered, they would put the names on a decorative sign and post them in senior hall. Everyone could walk down the hall and look to see who was going with whom. Sometimes the snickers would occur, sometimes the shocked looks would pass from one classmate to another, other times a confirming smile would spread across another’s face. For me, it was confirmation-confirmation that no one wanted me. My name never appeared on the couple’s declaration signs-

I told my oldest this weekend that Prom is often (not always) a bigger deal for the young woman involved than it is for the gentleman (it’s not always the case). I told him that she would spend hours or days contemplating and picking the dress, planning her hair and make-up, and anticipating the corsage, the dinner, the time for pictures. She will (in those days) have journaled (now texted her friends) about what she wants for that evening-she will have written down her dreams and what she hopes would happen- I couldn’t describe the specifics for him, but I was able to let him know that she, like every young lady, deserves to be treated like a queen on this night!

I caught up with him in the kitchen the afternoon before he started getting ready. I had inspected the flowers he bought for his date and his date’s mother- (yes, he bought the mother of the young lady a bouquet to match the corsage he gave her daughter- SCORE!) I looked at him and started to cry-the kind of tears that come from a place of 30 years of hurt. He immediately came over to me and put his arms around me, cradled my head on his shoulder, and said “let’s talk this out-walk me through this.” Hmmmm, sounds exactly like his mother-and is EXACTLY how I’ve talked to him and countless other young people who need a shoulder once in awhile.

Amid the tears, I described the Prom nights that I spent alone in my room- how my younger brother attended both my junior and senior prom-and that family members actually made fun of me for not being asked. I told him that every girl deserves the chance to be asked-to be picked-to be chosen (if she wants), and to have the opportunity to say yes-to be noticed-to be picked. Likewise, every young man deserves the opportunity to ask the person they choose (if they want) and to hear a yes from the other person. Everyone deserves the opportunity to be seen and to be affirmed. I wasn’t-so I sat in my room, watching random sitcoms in my lazy boy recliner-it was quiet-it was dark-it was lonely.

He sniffed for a minute and then I went on to explain what I wanted for him. I explained from my standpoint how much his being able to have a moment like this meant to me. He has struggled socially all during his junior high (who hasn’t?) and part of his high school career. The ADHD and anxiety mixture can make for weird classmate interactions-couple that with a superior intelligence & a leaning towards speech events and the formula doesn’t always add up to being Mr. Popularity- I wanted this moment for him every time he was targeted by classmates, I wanted the clouds to part and issues to clear for him- and I wanted, someday, for him to be able to go to Prom. I wanted him to be able to beat the odds, to find a young person that struck his interest, to summon the courage, and to ask the question-and to hear the affirmation. I wanted this for him more than I can express.

I told him this-with tears streaming down my face-realizing that, for me, the hurt still exists. The pain of not being chosen, not being seen, runs deep. I wanted to be asked-I wanted to be beautiful and chosen for just one night. And, I wanted that for him. He continued to listen, took his thumbs and wiped away the tears that ran rivers and smiled. I choked out that I wanted that cycle to be broken-for once.

He smiled-he gestured to the waiting flowers in the fridge and said, “Mom, you did it. You broke the cycle-I’m going. You did it!” I smiled back at him and realized, “Nah Bug, WE did it! We broke the cycle-and we can keep breaking them!”

And so, for one night-that’s what we did! I helped him get dressed-he let me joosh his hair so it was a little bang spikey look-we took pics-goofy pics, fun pics, loving pics, and I sent him on his way. As he got in the car-(that we made sure was cleaned and vacuumed), I held him tight, and whispered to him how proud I was of him, to have the time of his life and to make memories-….and “make good choices-remembering that you’re loved!”

He and his date allowed me to come take pics of them at The Falls-to revel in their friendship-to celebrate a night of fun and anticipation, and I held it together.

Then, I raced back to my house-and did the one thing I swore I would do-I put on a decent dress and went to Grand March-it was my first ever-I met a couple of mom-friends, sat in the bleachers-took pics. It wasn’t until they had been presented, made their way to the bridge, and faced my side of the gym, together, in that moment, that I lost it. As I watched them continue to the archway-I swiped at the tears streaming down my face-on the video you can hear this proud mom holler, “WoooHoo! Love you BUG!”, and I meant it. But I couldn’t stop the tears from forming or the big lump at the base of my throat from growing ever larger-

He did it-he made this night, his Jr. Prom, a night to remember-he laughed, he danced, he played random games of Cards Against Humanity, he treated his date like a queen, and witnessed her be hypnotized. He did it all.

When I asked him the next day, “on a scale of 1 to 10, how was your night?” “25!~” “and on a scale of 1 to 10, how did you and your date enjoy your time?” “26!” I knew beyond a shadow of a doubt, that one of my deepest wishes for this wonderful young man had come true. I may not ever know what it feels like to be asked-to pick out the dress-to be taken to dinner-to dance with the group and know I was chosen- He does-he knows what it feels like and he knows what it feels like to belong-to see and to be seen-

This weekend, another cycle was broken.