Coming upon my parents’ old prom photo during this particular week, it seemed as if Mom was telling us, “Go and have a good time!”
A story about stringing along a series of salesmen because I can’t say no, but I can’t say yes either.
I took a deep breath and did what anyone in my position would do as those seated around me gawked at the mess I’d just made. I laughed out loud and said, “This will make a great story.”
The fashion lines that have divided us are getting fuzzy. I was almost fooled by the junior clothing sections labeled in big bold letters: Mom Jeans. But that marketing lure is not for me.
Even though my daughter owns piles of high heels, fashion boots, and athletic shoes, there’s not a dress flat in the bunch. Momma to the rescue.
Mom held my hand for 44 trips around the sun; now I’m an unaccompanied child with shared birthday memories bringing me peace.