Print it

Online, a collection of snaps. Occasionally we browse through them. In time, most are virtually lost. So, I vow to print the lot. Glossy or matte, they love being fondled by eager hands that hope to relive the experiences.  Visual candy, sweetening our afternoon. This is why the shutter clicked, anyway.

100 percent chance of rain

The sky lights up a haunting orange for several seconds, then the color pales to an eerie peach.

Fog hangs over the tall, illuminated buildings, holding them so tight in places that they disappear in the grasp.

A steady tap teases the windows of our hotel room. Thunder claps chase the lightening. The heat of the last few days has been squelched.

When he wakes up, his disappointment will rain down like this storm.

No fishing in City Park unless this lets up, and it’s all mom’s fault for picking Thursday.

Redbone: Stay Woke

He walked in behind several people and stood briefly on display as they scattered through the store.  

I allowed my self a discrete but extended glance at his shock-white shoulder length hair billowing around his head in wavy chaos.  I took note of his tank top oddly stained on one side in brown, the other side markedly whiter.  Grey khaki shorts met sun tan, leathery skin. He wore no shoes or socks. 

As he sculked into the store, I met his eyes, and being polite,  I smiled and nodded a silent hello.  

He saw my children near, sucked his teeth and sneered as he passed by my son, “Niggras.” 

Good morning. #staywoke #iforgottherewasracismeverywhere

Her prom

Today my little girl transformed. Before my eyes my baby became a beautiful young woman.

I refrained from soaking my cheeks in tears, but I could not stifle my smile. People seeing us around town taking her pictures must have thought me so disgustingly vain. I simply could not believe how stunning and poised my child looks.

As her nervous giggles increased, I assured her that the face looking at her through the mirror was, indeed, hers. She felt it – and I saw the moment she acknowledged that what we have been telling her for years was true.

And she was further assured that my compliments were not skewed by bias when her date set eyes on her and said “Wow.” Mind you, he has said before that she was beautiful and she dismissed it as friendship.

Tonight, though, I know she believes him, too.

Finding the dress

This year has brought us so many changes. My daughter is a young woman. Her determination continues to take her to new heights. Her sweet personality, her empathy, her compassion have made her a valued friend, a trusted confidant, and an essential teammate. She’s earned two Varsity letters and is working toward the third. She maintains a high GPA in advanced classes. Her teachers and coaches speak highly of her.

And now, she’s preparing for one of the many rites of passage in high school: prom.

As a mom, I was a bit apprehensive about shopping for the prom dress. I mean – – this dress has to be beautiful, it has to be a statement. And (here’s where we might diverge on opinion with the trends) it has to be appropriate for my daughter.

{An aside: She’s a freshman. I was supposed to have three more years!}

Dresses are expensive. They’re an investment. And unlike the bride’s maids assurance that “you can totally shorten it and wear it again,” this is a dress that only makes one grand appearance.

Today we ventured into prom dress central and browsed through the hundreds of choices. They don’t look like much on the racks. Lace and mesh brought fear to this mother’s sensibilities. Slits and peek-a-boos made me want to avert my eyes.

We were on a mission: two piece, mermaid cut, high collar, open back, red. It was mission impossible…

Instead, we found dresses that met a few of the criteria, but not all. Assured by a website that we could “custom make” the dress of her dreams without extra charge, we hoped to pick the right style and worry about the mission’s directives when customizing.

The dressing room was already crowded – – and it was only a few minutes after the store’s opening. Mothers stood tensely next to doors waiting for their daughters. Daughters fussed around inside these cubes, rustling fabric, fighting zippers, and adjusting everything before emerging with apprehension and anticipation. The reveals were mixed: Gasps of appreciating awe and appalling shock inhales.

Bonita. Perfect. No, no, no. I liked the other one. Hmmm….

The discovery of pockets in some skirts met with giggles and pure joy. What a concept – – pockets!

It was as though we had become members of a new sorority. Sisters whispered, “You look amazing.” “I love that color on you.” “Wow.” There was a bonding over taffeta and satin. And girls – correction, young women – stood ever-prouder as they admired their beautiful and diverse shapes in the mirrors.
Inside that stuffy space confidence grew.

I cannot wait to help her put on her gown. I am excited to apply the final touches to her hair. I am eagerly awaiting watching her adorn herself with jewelry. And I am getting the tissues ready for when she meets up with her date and he sees her with new appreciation for the beautiful young woman she is.




her: Mommy, I need help.
Me: what do you need?
her: I want up. Hold me.
how can I resist cradling my ?

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