“Wake up sleepy head,” mom yelled upstairs. “It’s your day princess.”
“Yeah, yeah,” I moaned as I slogged myself from underneath the covers. This has been mom’s dream probably before I was born. She never had a “Sweet sixteen” even though her two older sisters did. By the time mom was sixteen, Grandpa had passed away and Grandma was left as a single parent. Now, she is forcing me into the one she never had.
“You get to wear the most beautiful gowns and dance the night away”, she would say dreamily. But that’s just not me.
As I throw on my favorite torn jeans and vintage Tee; a homage to 70s Black Panther, I find my vans and head downstairs. I’m dreading my birthday. I hoped I would be able to go to the skate park and hangout with the gang until the party starts. But, instead I have a hair, nail, and make up appointment. As if that’ll help this unruly hair and awkward features. As I walk into to the kitchen, mom has all my favorites laid on the table.
“Eat up, you’ll need your strength,” she gleamed laying breakfast on the table. The table hosted bacon, sausage, eggs, pancakes, biscuits, gravy, and homemade cinnamon buns.
“My god is it going to be that brutal.” I moan as I put my earbuds in and blast my music. I don’t want any interaction. Besides, she missed the memo. These were my favorite when I was like 10. “I prefer cereal.” Mom’s smile faded, and she ran to get the cereal out the cupboard.
Now that it was time for the party, mom decided to “surprise” me with my shoes. It’s bad enough she bought me a pink and purple sleeveless, low cut cocktail dress with ruffles around the bottom. Now she also adding shoes. “I wanted this to be special for you so, here you go.”
“Um Mom, Dad got me shoes for today.” I cringed as it came out. Her mood changed. My parents never got along. Hard to understand how they made me. As I pulled the Nike box from under my bed, her tears began to fall.
“What on earth? Are you serious?”
“Mom, it’s perfectly okay to wear tennis shoes now and days with formal dresses. Besides, it’s my day and I want to be comfortable. I respect your tradition of having a “Sweet Sixteen,” now respect my decision to enjoy it the way I want.” I replied with confidence. Dad and I had practiced the speech for two weeks. Although I allowed her to create her special “Sweet Sixteen,” there were just some things I wasn’t going to compromise. My comfort was the most important.
“Okay, your right,” mom conceded. “I have forced you into this entire day. Not once did I consider who you are and what you wanted. Why didn’t you say anything until now?”
“I don’t know mom? You started planning it two years ago. And, honestly two years ago I was a different person, and all of this was so cute. But now that I’m getting older, it’s not necessarily who I am.”
“Humpf,” mom snorted as tears streamed down her face. “I can’t believe my baby is growing up.”
“Well, I’m not grown yet.” I chuckled. “Let’s go party!” Mom grabbed my hands and we head downstairs to the balloon filled room crowed with my family and friends. The crowd clapped as I descended the stairs and I grasped my mother’s hand. She did an amazing job. “Thanks mom,” I smiled.
