Lamps dangle above us, the kind you see in those old-fashioned movies where a party is thrown and everyone in town is invited and dressed to perfection, although this isn’t a movie. After missing my last two Homecomings to reconstruction surgery and COVID-19, I can’t believe that my senior dance actually happened, let alone that it looked like something out of Audrey Hepburn’s Sabrina with clear skies, dazzling dresses, and familiar faces all covered in smiles instead of masks. To everyone who worked tirelessly to see this event, this week, and this dream fulfilled to its potential, thank you, thank you from the bottom of my heart; y’all truly deserve all the credit here. Yet, if I’m being honest, as I took out the twenty billion Bobby pins my best friend had stuffed into my hair to maintain each and every perfectly-crafted curl last night, I realized that it wasn’t the music or the compliments people gave us during our pictures and dinner that lightened my step. It wasn’t the whole town watching us celebrate our school pride that brought such joy to my soul. It was the little moments sprinkled throughout the day that made me smile. The kiss of the morning sun against my skin during my run that morning at my high school field, her warmth sending energy up my arms and into my spirit as I took in the beauty of my second home. The caress of hot water running over my freezing skin, washing away the impurities and grime as I stepped out of the shower clean and clear-headed, ready to take on the world. The laugh escaping my lungs as I chatted and teased my bonus siblings, amazed at the people they’re growing into and the tribe woman who’s been with me through all of life’s adventures. The ecstasy of looking in the mirror after so many thoughtful, loyal, and beautiful human beings poured an endless stream of work and effort into me and loving who I saw, feeling secure, feeling gorgeous, feeling proud of who I’ve become, no matter what anyone would say.
I had the opportunity to attend a career preparation camp over the summer in our nation’s capital, and one of the biggest changes I noticed between that community and mine was the way people spoke to one another, in particular, the way they complimented one another. In my high school (and town, in general), there’s this bizarre unwritten rule when it comes to complimenting people, whether that be their idea in a Socratic seminar, the color of their shirt, or the style of their hair – don’t. Avoid eye contact, walk right past them, pretend like they don’t exist at whatever the cost. So when I came downstairs the first day of camp and had an elevator full of girls my age go crazy over my jumpsuit and makeup, I was flabbergasted. I didn’t know teenage girls could compliment one another without feeling inferior and threatened. And, speaking truthfully, it felt surreal, like a scene I’ve read in books time and time again but never thought I’d live.
We all dream of living out the happily ever afters we grew up witnessing through stories and films, yet our world is overflowing with sorrow, sin, and shame, making it nearly impossible to find peace in such a chaotic culture. However, nearly impossible isn’t the same as absolutely impossible. Therefore, how do we find that ending? How do we achieve that bliss we can carry with us for the rest of our lives? While it sounds contradictory, accepting that we live on a broken planet is the first and hardest step, since we are programmed from a young age to believe and expect perfection twenty-four/seven. Yet that, in itself, is illogical due to the fact that we don’t have fairy godmothers who can come along on a whim and transform our pumpkins into carriages to carry us far away from our problems. We do have, though, the ability to be thankful, the choice to have an attitude of gratitude in every season, from the sweet creaminess of our first cup of coffee in the morning to the soothing coolness of our furry friend’s kisses as we snuggle into bed. Life will never be perfect, so if we wait for all our ducks to fall in a row before we seek out that closing scene happiness, we’ll never make it to the credits. Maybe my high school career hasn’t been like a Hollywood musical; a global pandemic changes the script quite a bit. But I can’t help but smile as I look back on my career and last night, because it was Homecoming in more ways than I can count. It was a reflection on the relationships I’ve made over the past four years, from embracing friends to supportive teachers, all of who have helped me mature and blossom both as a student and person. It was a glimpse into the future, the stars of tomorrow shining down on me with mirth as I finalize my college applications and let go of all my worries for an evening of enjoyment. It was a day of pride, not just for my roots but of how far I’ve come, from a shy, insecure fifteen year old girl trying to survive one more day to a bubbling, confident eighteen year old woman ready to take on the world. Whatever hour of life we are in right now, may we all take a moment to pause, acknowledge our surroundings, be proud of ourselves for how far we’ve come, and ask the divine to remind us of our worth, of where we belong, of who we are, because that’s the only way we can come back home.
Last Love 