5.3.15 Prom


Thomas Moore once said, “No, there’s nothing half so sweet in life as love’s young dream.”  This weekend was prom in our neighborhood, and I would have to agree.  There is a pond by our house, and a lovely brick formation that is great for taking pictures.  And apparently, the entire town thought so too.  Flocks of multi-colored gauze and lace wobbled on unsteady heels around too-hot-for-a-sunny-day suits with matching ties.  Some might call the display ridiculous, expensive and wasteful … but I am not one of those people. 

I was mesmerized.  

Unpractical use of my very limited free time though it was, I couldn’t help but stare out my window at the parade of frill.  Call it nostalgia, romanticism or simple girlish-fancy … titles don’t matter.  Captivated by the smiles of the mothers taking pictures, the boys tugging at too-tight ties and the girls who inspired them to wear them in the first place, I grinned over at my second-grade son beside me, imagining his turn, while simultaneously reminiscing about my own.  

“Hey buddy,” I said, pulling his attention from an iPad game. 

“Yeah,” he said barely looking up. 

“Look at all those kids going to prom.” 

“Ugh,” he said in a half-disgusted tone. “They’re in love,” he finished annoyed. 

“What?” I laughed.  “How can you tell?” 

“Just look at what they’re wearing!” he said, as if stating the most obvious thing in the world.

“So …” I hedged carefully, “you don’t think you’ll go to prom then?” 

“No, I’ll probably go,” he sighed, returning to his game, as I returned to my smiles. 

There is magic in first love – not because it is necessarily any more or less than other kinds of love … but because you are so very open and unassuming.  As Benjamin Disraeli stated, “The magic of first love is our ignorance that it can ever end.”  And standing by my window, swathed in memory … I was again reminded that true love doesn’t.  We might move on, and things certainly change, my beautiful son is proof of that.  But the memories live; the memories stay.   So carry on young love … it is your moment to be fearless, to dance to songs you will forget the titles to, with friends whose names you won’t remember, wrapped in feelings you’ll never outgrow. 

Literarily yours, 


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