I caught a fleeting glimpse of myself reflected in a mirror--an elegant young lady wearing a pink, sequin-smattered, Prom dress--gracefully spinning and stepping in time to the waltz blasting through the speakers. Everyone in the room stepped back and watched us dance...
Wait. Us?
Again, I referred to the mirror on the wall. A closer look showed a blond, 20-year-old woman in a borrowed formal, waltzing to Josh Groban's "So She Dances," in the arms of a brown-eyed, 16-year-old, high school boy in a tux. I felt my high-heel precariously tread on the hem of my dress.
What am I doing here?
You are probably wondering the same. I'll tell you...
"Jess... Do you want to do something crazy tonight?" Katie asked me last Saturday evening.
"Yes." I didn't even have to think before I answered.
"Jess, let's go to the Prom!"
Through my cell phone, I laughed and told her, "No way! We can't do that; we're way too old. We'll get in trouble."
"No we won't... I did it last year."
"You were still in high school last year!"
"Oh yeah, huh. Well, it would be pretty fun. You could wear my pink, poofy, sparkly dress, and I'll wear the peach one. Wouldn't that be awesome? We'll just sneak in for the last half hour--nobody will even know we're there."
"Well, I guess it would be fun..."
"We won't be there for too long."
"And we're Kerr girls!" I exclaimed.
"What does that mean?" Asked Katie, confused.
"It means that we can get away with anything!"
"Yes!"
"Okay, let's go to Prom, Katie."
She came over to my apartment, we thought skinny thoughts, held our breath, and zipped up the old Prom dresses. Make-up, hair, lip-stick, jewelry--we looked just like hyper, sixteen-year-old kids excited to go to the Junior Prom. Well, okay... not quite, but pretty close!
In our formal dresses, Katie and I snagged a couple smoothies from the McDonald's drive-thru, parked on Main Street, and then, arm in arm, we walked to the Prom. There was a fateful moment at the main entrance, when we almost chickened out. Lucky for Katie and me, a couple guys walked out to cool down and recognized us (well, they recognized Katie, mostly). We filled them in on our plot to sneak into Prom. They agreed to help us.
"Just take the elevator up to the 3rd floor, and you'll be in." One of the boys suggested.
"Yes! Perfect. The elevator." Said Katie in response.
Following the two boys, we made it into the elevator. The doors opened, revealing a dimly lit hallway on the third floor. We followed the hallway, climbed a short splat of stairs into the hot, shimmering, hub-bub of Bear River's Junior Prom! Katie and I squealed and grabbed each other's hands. We were in!
Almost instantly, the little children around us noticed that there was something not quite right about the two blond women in pink dresses. Some of them even recognized Katie, and thought it was hilarious that we, mature college adults, would show up to such a juvenile, social event. I felt very old.
"Where's Jacob?" Katie asked one of the girls. Jacob is our cousin, and we knew he was at the Prom that night.
"He's up those stairs." The girl pointed. We hoisted up our frilled skirts and scampered up the stairs. There was Jacob, standing in a group of friends. The poor boy didn't know what to think when we came bustling up to him, all grins and giggles. I hope he wasn't too embarrassed.
"What are you guys doing here?!" He gasped in uttermost shock, and in a daze, hugged both Katie and me.
"We came to Prom!" We shouted in unison. Jacob just laughed and rolled his eyes and turned back to his date. Katie and I then rocked and jigged and grooved our dancing souls to bits on the dance floor, with confused and curious high school juniors intently observing. Then THE song came on! It was a waltz. My heart shed a tear right there, because there was no one for me to waltz with. The all too familiar feeling of hopeless "if only-ness" bore me down. I love to waltz.
Then Jacob walked past us...
"Jake!" I yelled and grabbed his arm. He spun around.
"Dance with me." I commanded, and he obeyed. "Can you waltz, boy?" I implored.
Hesitantly, he confirmed that, yes, he could, "a little." In my pink dress and high-heels, I led him through a dramatic waltz lesson. He spun me around; the bottom of my dress ruffled out in magenta waves. I gracefully held my head at a just-so tilt, while my arms floated and my feet tip-toed.
Looking up at Jacob, I whispered, "I never got asked to Prom." Kudos to him for acting sympathetic. He spun me again, I laughed, and everyone at the prom stopped what they were doing to watch the mystery girl, in the center of the dance floor, living a dream that expired four years ago.
Go to Prom and feel like a princess--CHECK!
Wait. Us?
Again, I referred to the mirror on the wall. A closer look showed a blond, 20-year-old woman in a borrowed formal, waltzing to Josh Groban's "So She Dances," in the arms of a brown-eyed, 16-year-old, high school boy in a tux. I felt my high-heel precariously tread on the hem of my dress.
What am I doing here?
You are probably wondering the same. I'll tell you...
"Jess... Do you want to do something crazy tonight?" Katie asked me last Saturday evening.
"Yes." I didn't even have to think before I answered.
"Jess, let's go to the Prom!"
Through my cell phone, I laughed and told her, "No way! We can't do that; we're way too old. We'll get in trouble."
"No we won't... I did it last year."
"You were still in high school last year!"
"Oh yeah, huh. Well, it would be pretty fun. You could wear my pink, poofy, sparkly dress, and I'll wear the peach one. Wouldn't that be awesome? We'll just sneak in for the last half hour--nobody will even know we're there."
"Well, I guess it would be fun..."
"We won't be there for too long."
"And we're Kerr girls!" I exclaimed.
"What does that mean?" Asked Katie, confused.
"It means that we can get away with anything!"
"Yes!"
"Okay, let's go to Prom, Katie."
She came over to my apartment, we thought skinny thoughts, held our breath, and zipped up the old Prom dresses. Make-up, hair, lip-stick, jewelry--we looked just like hyper, sixteen-year-old kids excited to go to the Junior Prom. Well, okay... not quite, but pretty close!
In our formal dresses, Katie and I snagged a couple smoothies from the McDonald's drive-thru, parked on Main Street, and then, arm in arm, we walked to the Prom. There was a fateful moment at the main entrance, when we almost chickened out. Lucky for Katie and me, a couple guys walked out to cool down and recognized us (well, they recognized Katie, mostly). We filled them in on our plot to sneak into Prom. They agreed to help us.
"Just take the elevator up to the 3rd floor, and you'll be in." One of the boys suggested.
"Yes! Perfect. The elevator." Said Katie in response.
Following the two boys, we made it into the elevator. The doors opened, revealing a dimly lit hallway on the third floor. We followed the hallway, climbed a short splat of stairs into the hot, shimmering, hub-bub of Bear River's Junior Prom! Katie and I squealed and grabbed each other's hands. We were in!
Almost instantly, the little children around us noticed that there was something not quite right about the two blond women in pink dresses. Some of them even recognized Katie, and thought it was hilarious that we, mature college adults, would show up to such a juvenile, social event. I felt very old.
"Where's Jacob?" Katie asked one of the girls. Jacob is our cousin, and we knew he was at the Prom that night.
"He's up those stairs." The girl pointed. We hoisted up our frilled skirts and scampered up the stairs. There was Jacob, standing in a group of friends. The poor boy didn't know what to think when we came bustling up to him, all grins and giggles. I hope he wasn't too embarrassed.
"What are you guys doing here?!" He gasped in uttermost shock, and in a daze, hugged both Katie and me.
"We came to Prom!" We shouted in unison. Jacob just laughed and rolled his eyes and turned back to his date. Katie and I then rocked and jigged and grooved our dancing souls to bits on the dance floor, with confused and curious high school juniors intently observing. Then THE song came on! It was a waltz. My heart shed a tear right there, because there was no one for me to waltz with. The all too familiar feeling of hopeless "if only-ness" bore me down. I love to waltz.
Then Jacob walked past us...
"Jake!" I yelled and grabbed his arm. He spun around.
"Dance with me." I commanded, and he obeyed. "Can you waltz, boy?" I implored.
Hesitantly, he confirmed that, yes, he could, "a little." In my pink dress and high-heels, I led him through a dramatic waltz lesson. He spun me around; the bottom of my dress ruffled out in magenta waves. I gracefully held my head at a just-so tilt, while my arms floated and my feet tip-toed.
Looking up at Jacob, I whispered, "I never got asked to Prom." Kudos to him for acting sympathetic. He spun me again, I laughed, and everyone at the prom stopped what they were doing to watch the mystery girl, in the center of the dance floor, living a dream that expired four years ago.
Go to Prom and feel like a princess--CHECK!
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