My Son Walked Across the Graduation Stage in a Bright Red Dress While the Auditorium Giggled – He Did It for Me
"What are you doing with that?"
He glanced down.
"I want to wear it to graduation."
For a moment, I thought I had misunderstood him.
"You want to what?"
He unfolded the dress.
I recognized every inch of it.
I had helped choose it.
Mary had insisted on the red one.
Aaron ran his fingers over the fabric.
"I'm wearing it."
I pulled out the chair across from him.
"No."
"Mom."
"No, Aaron."
His expression did not change.
I lowered my voice.
"Do you understand what people will do?"
"Yes."
"They'll laugh."
"I know."
"They'll take pictures."
"I know."
"They'll post them online."
"I know."
I leaned across the table.
"They'll eat you alive."
Aaron met my eyes.
"I know, Mom."
Then he added, "It doesn't matter."
"It matters to me."
His face softened, but he did not fold the dress.
"Aaron, please. You've already been through enough."
We both knew what I meant.
Only a few months earlier, our family had looked completely different.
Mary and Aaron had spent most of their lives competing over everything.
Who got the better grade.
Who finished breakfast first.
Who got to sit in the front seat.
