How I Took My Mom to Prom and Gave Her the Night She Deserved
I was eighteen when I finally understood something that had taken me a lifetime: love isn’t always quiet. Sometimes, it’s bold. Public. Unapologetic. Sometimes, love means standing up for the person who spent years standing up for you when no one was watching.
For me, that realization hit during prom season—and it hit hard.
My mom, Emma, had me at seventeen. Her own teenage dreams—prom dresses, graduation, carefree nights—vanished overnight. The boy who got her pregnant disappeared, leaving her alone to work late shifts, clean houses, babysit, and study for her GED after I fell asleep. She skipped meals, wore hand-me-downs, and carried exhaustion quietly, all to give me a life. She joked about the “almost prom,” but I saw the shadow behind her smile.
As my senior prom approached, I decided it was time. I wanted to give her what she’d never had. One evening, while she washed dishes after another grueling day, I asked:
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