The Memory in the Red Dress

Last night, your Mama Kay was going through some of my old dresses that she still has at her house. As she told me of each dress she had come across, the memories that each holds began to flood my thoughts. My wedding dress, of course, holds the memories of the happiest day of my life. The sounds of laughter and music drifted into my mind accompanied by the sight of my handsome, new husband looking back at me. Mama Kay interrupted my reverie as she continued to tell me of the dresses she had run across. "All of the dresses from when you were a bridesmaid," she continued. "Even your prom dresses - the red, shiny one; the pretty, beaded, blue one; the black and white dress you wore to your senior prom. In fact," she continued, "do you remember the red dress your Aunt Barbara made for you for the 6th grade Valentine's dance?" My heart warmed at the thought. "No," I replied, "it wasn't the 6th grade dance. It was 7th grade, and she bought it last minute because, at the time, we couldn't afford it." Aunt Gran is always thoughtful that way. "Actually," I went on, "that was the dress I wore the very first time I danced with Nathan."

~ I was 12 years old, and for me, turning 12 meant many things, one being that I was finally starting to notice boys. Mama Kay might say that I was a little "boy crazy," but I was just your typical pre-teen girl. Boys were starting to catch my eye, and one of the first boys I noticed was your dad.

It was Saturday, February 14, 1998 - the night of Ferris Junior High's Valentine dance. I was wearing the red dress. It came down just past my knees and had a sash that tied in the back. It was one of those dresses that girls can't help but to twirl in. My friends and I were enjoying ourselves, but when a slow song would start to play, my friends would all dance, leaving me to sit alone. The boy I liked hadn't come to the dance. I remember going to the concession stand to buy a pickle and then plopping down in a chair to sulk. I had grown accustomed to boys not being too interested in me, but the repetition of heart break doesn't take away the sting. I was upset that no boy had asked me to dance, and the night was coming to an end.

As I finished my pickle, the most handsome boy I had ever seen began walking my way. Nathan Hairston. I assumed he would walk past me. He didn't. Oh, I had seen him before. I had even spoken to him. In fact, I had even deflected a few of his spit balls in class, but none of the few encounters I had had with him could have prepared me for what he would say to me now.

"You look sad," he said.

"I'm fine," was along the lines of what I'm sure fell out of my mouth.

"You want to dance?" he asked

At that point, I am almost certain that breathing had become something I had to make an effort to do, and for some reason, I answered, "No, I'm okay."

"You look sad, so I'm not taking 'No' for an answer."

He held out his hand. I took it.

We walked back onto the gym floor and danced to some song that I'll always wish I could remember. It was wonderful! I was so nervous, but he was so sweet to me, bringing me comfort despite the endless whirling of butterflies in my stomach.

Suddenly, we were interrupted, by a very angry girl. She stormed up to Nathan and told him that his girlfriend was going to break up with him if he didn't stop dancing with me "right this second!" Of course, he had a girlfriend. That made sense - much more sense than him dancing with me. "He was just being nice to me," I thought. I was preparing myself to quickly back away and slip silently out of the door in my humiliation when I heard him reply to the angry girl, "Then, I guess she's breaking up with me," never once taking his eyes from me.

The girl stormed off. She was pretty upset, as any girl would be, but at the time, I could selfishly only think of my own happiness. Your dad said to me, "Sorry about that," and we danced the remainder of the song with the sound of nothing but the music. ~

To my son: With this story, I hope you learn chivalry and kindness. I do not expect you to dance with other girls if you have a girlfriend, but your father was being polite to a girl who looked like she was sad on a night when she should be happy. I know - girls - YUCK! But when you get to a certain age, remember to be chivalrous, and you are certain to capture the heart of the girl of your dreams.

To my daughter: I ask that you refuse to dance with anyone less of a gentleman than your daddy. You deserve to be loved and treated with the utmost respect. (And your dad says that first dance won't be until you're 25. Sorry.)

(On a side note, today you are as big as a blueberry, which makes it only mildly strange that I ate a blueberry for a snack. We love you Poppyseed.)