Dates are ever present. They mark the beginning of the life and the end. They mark the union of a marriage and the dissolution of one. Memorable moments in history, whether tragic or heroic, are commemorated with a date.
We all have an expiration date, this is true. We never know when that is and what we do, before our time runs out, is what matters.
A year ago today, my husband and I went out with one of his best friends for a night on the town. It was one of the first warm nights of spring, the kind of night that held the promise of summer in it’s gentle breeze. The destination for that night was a bar in Southern Maine. I rode on the back of my husband’s Harley and our friend rode on his Yamaha. We met up with a group of friends, ate dinner, had a couple of drinks, danced, and had a good time.
We left for home an hour before our friend did. Our friend; a father, a son, a brother, an uncle, a boyfriend and a teacher never made it home. He crashed his motorcycle and spent the next seven days in the Critical Care Unit with multiple injuries. He never woke up and after a heavy decision made by his family, he was disconnected from life support.
In the year following his accident, I’ve learned more about Ervin than I did when he was alive. His family is amazing - daughters, brothers and sisters, nephews and parents - every single family member we have been fortunate to meet and forge a bond with is amazing and beautiful. While we all bear our grief separately, there’s a portion of it we share together and there is a comfort in this.
Ervin was a remarkable teacher and inspired his students to greatness. His Facebook page has been kept active and serves as tribute to how much impact he had on his students. Our son is one one them. This past Friday, I attended the graduation ceremony for Ervin’s school. While his name wasn’t mentioned, his imprint was on every smiling face of the graduating students in his program (our son included). Some have achieved great accomplishments and I know Ervin helped create the foundation for those successes to be built upon.
This month has been an emotional one where dates seem to mean more. My mom celebrated her 70th birthday and my son attended his Senior Prom, the last major event before he graduates. These are all milestones and since we never know when our expiration date is, we have to celebrate these checkpoints in life. I think because of the great people I’ve known and whom have passed, I am grateful and more appreciative of every single moment.
— the writer reblogs, being distracted by the internet
Being a good anything is 3% talent and 97% not being distracted by the internet.. (via story-dj)
So true. I Googled it.
My stepson is going to his girlfriend’s Junior Prom tomorrow night and the following weekend they’re going to his Senior Prom. My last prom was 21 years ago and I can’t help but recall the memories (good, bad and embarrassing).
I spent the first two years of high school overweight, awkward and self conscious. I drank a lot at parties to have liquid courage and did some pretty stupid things. The summer before my junior year, I signed up for NutriSystem and stopped drinking. By the time Prom Season rolled around, I had lost a lot of weight and was feeling pretty good about myself. When I didn’t get asked to prom, I started to do the asking - and got turned down - repeatedly. I had the dress, the hair appointment, but my nerves were shot. Many nights were spent in my bedroom bemoaning the whole process. Why didn’t anyone want to go with me? Was I that hideous? Little did I know that while I had gone through a lot of physical changes, I was still the tallest girl in class (5’ 11”) and people still saw me for the person I used to be.
Fortunately, my friend’s date had a friend who was willing to go to the prom with me. He saved my whole prom experience, but I can’t remember his name. How horrible is that?
The summer before my senior year, I had my first boyfriend and started to conquer my awkward shyness. I thought Senior Prom would be different. While I was single, I didn’t get asked. The pattern of asking and getting rejected continued. My neighbor, who was my age but a sophomore, came through for me. We had grown up together, knew each other since we were three and while he was considered a hottie, I thought of him like a brother. But, he was a valid date and it was my senior prom, God damn it.
I had the dress (peach lace Jessica McClintock - thank you very much), the hair and the date. Our group had a limo, we pre-gamed in a hotel room like we were rock stars and then we went to “The Prom”. The venue was The Mansion in Cherry Hill, NJ, a Jerseyfied take on an antebellum mansion. I may or may not have tried to shove the silverware down the top of my dress. I may or may not have had a wardrobe malfunction and, because I was seventeen, didn’t need to wear a bra so my breasts may have been exposed (briefly).
Despite the rejections, the angst, self-hate and embarrassing moments, I had a blast at both proms. Now I look at my prom pictures and long for my high school figure and the days where my only worries were about who was I going to go with, what I was going to wear and how to style my hair.
Now I’m on the other side budgeting for the limo, the tux rental and ordering flowers, while my husband and I are making sure the mortgage, utilities and all other adult responsibilities are covered. I hope my stepson has a blast and creates a lot of memories - they’re priceless.
My muse has arrived. Well, she thinks she’s my muse.
Totally digging this band. Such a trippy, cool sound.
Write a story that starts with a character waking up and not remembering what happened the night before because he/she drank too much.
Submit | Yeah Write!
So, basically, this will be practice for writing my memoir…