Sock Hop

Abigail, my sweet baby sister, this is for you.

It's 1996. White Pine Elementary. Room 4B is empty, devoid of Mrs. Tate and the bustling 4th grade students learning cursive and multiplication. The red apple perched on the corner of the teacher's black metal desk is the only color found in the darkened room. The tiny drinking fountains, now knee high to my 21 year old body, are absent of kids waiting their turn to quench their thirst.

But alas, the gym is filled with 1950's rock tunes, disco lights, and children and parents of all ages be-bopping from the sugar high found in cookies and punch. It is the annual Sock Hop dance; a chance for me to choose between my pink or red felt skirt, embroidered with a poodle and a leash. To throw on mid calf length white socks and pair them with my black Maryjanes. (I so desperately wanted a pair of white and black saddle shoes, but a once a year wear didn't dignify spending my parent's money). To wear my thin brown head of hair high in a ponytail. And best of all, a chance for me to wear the reddest of reds, the va-va-voomest of all va-va-voom, lipstick.

I knew, and I knew, Luke Balbas would be there. His blonde hair, his heart palpitating smile, and his feet grooving to the beat (and would he actually be shoeless?? Missing a piece of clothing??). And then there he was. I blushed. I gushed. I reverted back to my shy days from years previous.

And the first thing he said to me was not "hello." It was not "how are you?" It was, "Nice red lipstick."

And I.... was.... CRUSHED. DEFLATED. Utterly heart broken. How could he? He must have known I had worn it for him. How did he have the nerve to degrade my reddest of reds lipstick, and thus, degrade me as a person?

Naturally, I darted for the bathroom. Whisked myself into the first open stall. And I cried. I cried Niagara Falls right in the middle of the White Pine Elementary bathroom. And not only did I cry, but I stayed in the bathroom for the Sock Hop's entirety. My friends went and found my mom, obviously retreating to the last resort in an attempt to have my long awkward string bean skinny legs out of that bathroom. Of course the situation was just only worsened upon her entrance and the first words out of her mouth, "Meredith, are you really going to do this again?"

Duh, mom. Of course we are. How dare you! Your daughter's heart has been smashed to pieces and you don't even care!

(Ay yay yay, remind me never to have a daughter between the ages of ten and twenty).

Needless to say, I moped on home, the disastrous red lipstick smeared all over anywhere but my lips, and I scurried up the stairs to my bedroom. Naturally the first thing a girl between the ages of ten and twenty does is find a way to only make herself more miserable. It's just what we do; no big deal. Hence, I quickly flipped through my meager CD collection and turned on Donna Lewis' "I Love You Always Forever." And the tear ducts emptied their final reservoirs, allowing myself to drown in self pity.

Though not much has changed, I certainly learned something that night. First, a boy is never worth that many tears (just one good 30 second pout, maximum). Second, even though you feel like it's the end of the world, and that red lipstick and Luke Balbas are the devil reincarnated, it's actually not doom's day.

And Abigail, just like that spelling bee, and as much as you wanted to do well... We all know you are smart and gifted. You didn't need a spelling bee to prove it. I never even got a chance to compete in a spelling bee!

You are a sweet girl, with an energetic spirit and a very smart, and super creative, mind. You have a bright future; so forget about the red lipsticks and the misspelled words. In the end (or at the least the end of your 21st year), it's how you bounced back from those moments that matter.

I love you like a sister,
Meredith