The day started peacefully enough. I got up early, read and had coffee alone. Then the upstairs bedroom door slammed and a quiet whimpering progressed to a wail as pajama clad feet descended the stairs. Curly blond hair was glued to the snot-caked face of my first grade daughter. She tried to dial up the volume on that wail but had lost her voice overnight and couldn't work it up. Half an hour later, after a cup of sweet peppermint tea, a glug of children's ibuprofen and a hot shower to wash the snot and hair off her face, my youngest was content. The other end of the day was spent in pre-prom activities with another daughter. Hair at Dosha, pantyhose at Freddy's, boutanier, and groceries for the "formal potluck" for which we were contributing the vegetarian portion. I could have sung "Sunrise Sunset" a dozen times this afternoon but didn't. Feeling nostalgic enough. Later, dressed like a goddess, that girl lit up the room filled with prom beauties, on the arm of a boy I'd never met before but looked damn lucky to have my girl by his side. He'll carry that prom photo into his old age and brag about the gorgeous girl who went with him. So, that's the deal, isn't it? We wash the snot out of their hair one year and then, overnight, they're off to prom and on to the rest of their life. How's that work?
