PROM.

The rite of passage for all high school students. I admired myself in front of the full-length mirror, doing a turn in the beautiful white floral dress the girls helped me pick out. My hair was loosely curled and cascaded down my back in small ringlets.

"Wow," My mom breathes as she leans against the door frame. "You look beautiful." Her eyes start to water and I smile as I pull her in for a hug.

"Thanks, mom," I inhale the scent of her flowery perfume as I try not to shed some tears.

"Blake is downstairs waiting," she says when we pull away. "You are going to render...