Today I am headed to Bismarck with Mike to watch his daughter Erin’s prom grand march.  It has been a number of years since I have attended a grand march.  My last one was with Cory who is now 24.

I recall Cory’s prom experience as being relatively painless for me.  Boys are easier when it comes to prom.  They ask a nice girl, they rent a tux, they order flowers, and they pay for a meal – relatively easy on the prom spectrum.  That was not my experience with my oldest daughter Sarah.  With girls there is the “being asked” – which is an exercise in angst in-and-of-itself.  That is followed up with all the girl prom process and accoutrements – an enterprise second only to a full-blown wedding.

There is the dress, the shoes, the accessories, the tanning, the hair, the makeup, the nails, the photos – it is, quite literally, a parent’s preparatory event for a wedding – emotionally, psychologically and financially. It is part of the gentle process that life takes parents through to prepare them for the ultimate big wedding event.  There are all those smaller events that lead up to prom and ultimately, high school and college graduations  –  school programs, religious hallmarks, middle school dances, senior pictures – all preparing parents for the inevitability of bigger and more consequential events. Not that any of the precursor events ever seem inconsequential at the time – it all seems very important in the moment and worth every effort when stored in our memory bank.

So we are off to Bismarck to experience the pagentry of the grand march and to mentally embrace the notion that Erin is moving toward even bigger life moments – moments that seem hard to grasp when a parent reflects upon how quickly childhood passes.  I believe that is why so many parents shed a tear or two at these events – it isn’t the amount of money they have invested, or merely the hype of the event, it is a recognition that the child that you once cradled in your arms and fully-protected against all the ills of the world is growing up toward their adulthood.

Yes, I am bringing lots of Kleenex. 😉

Day one thousand and twenty of the new forty – obla di obla da

Ms. C