My Sunday was wholly consumed with the dreaded shopping. My mother dragged me out of the house and to the mall before noon, and she had me trying on dresses of every style while she examined each with a critical eye.
“Too young,” she would proclaim. Or, with more urgency, “Too old!” Some were too long, others too short. I was getting worn out.
Finally, in the fifth store, she handed me a dress in the softest, silkiest material I’d ever touched. It was a deep green, and it shimmered as I dropped it over my head. The thin straps rested lightly on my shoulders, and the bodice draped loosely but tastefully. The skirt swirled to just below my knees, and as I stood in front of the mirror, I actually felt a stir of excitement when I considered wearing this dress to the dance.
“Oh, Tas! It’s beautiful. It’s perfect! Do you like it?” My mother was effusive in her pleasure when I stepped out of the dressing room stall.
I gave a dramatic little turn in front of the larger mirror. The dress danced around me.
“Yes, I do. I think this is it. Now can we go eat?”
“Shoes first. Eating later.”
Thankfully for my empty stomach, shoes were much easier to locate now that we had the dress decision made. I squealed with true girlish delight when I saw the dainty silver heels. They were simply made—just straps and heels—and delicate. I knew they would set off the dress to perfection.
“And I have a brand new silver purse you can borrow if you like,” my mother offered.
“Sold! Now let’s please eat before I pass out.”
We found a small restaurant in a corner of the mall. The Sunday after-church crowd hadn’t yet arrived, so we had our pick of the tables. We decided to share a chicken and fruit salad and sipped sweet iced tea.
Before my mother even opened her mouth to speak, I sensed that she was feeling reminiscent.
“I can’t believe that you’re going to your first dance,” she sniffed. “It just seems like yesterday that you were my tiny little girl, toddling around…”
“Mom,” I muttered in embarrassment. “I’m just going to a dance, not getting married or joining the foreign legion. Most girls my age have gone to loads of formals. I’m just backward.”
“You’re not backward. You’re just right. Don’t ever think that.”
I smiled at her over my forkful of fruit. “I don’t, really. I just think it was a matter of finding the right person.” I thought of Michael, and my smile deepened.
My mom sighed. “I do worry. I’ve never seen anything like it. You… actually light up when you talk about Michael, or whenever he’s around. It’s not just your expression, it’s like a glow from inside you.”
“Why would that worry you?”
“Because you’re seventeen years old. You’re not supposed to have this happen so young. You’re supposed to finish school, have a life, and then find that special person.”
“But maybe I am supposed to have this happen now. Maybe that’s the way my life is supposed to work. And I do have a life, already,” I added.
She was quiet, eating and thinking. “I don’t want you to be hurt, and I can’t see how it can be avoided. I can tell that you feel strongly about Michael, but you’re very inexperienced. So much of life is in front of you. Circumstances are bound to pull you apart. Look, even next year, Michael’s heading for college. You have to accept that things will change.” He’s going to go off to school and leave her here, with a broken heart. I don’t know how to stop that from happening.
Panic filled my heart. “I can deal with change. I’ve been handling that all my life. But did you ever think that maybe we won’t be pulled apart—we might be able to handle it, together?”
My mother nodded. “We’ll see. Tasmyn, I just want you to remember that this is your first relationship. So have fun, be young while you are young. Try not to be so intense. That’s all I’m saying.”
It might have been all she was saying, but she continued to think pretty loudly for the rest of the afternoon.