My First Date

I sort of wanted to throw up.  But I knew I wasn’t sick.  Nothing felt sick except for my tummy. It really didn’t feel good. It would be a few years before I learned that I was feeling nerves many refer to as “the butterflies.”

I picked out my prettiest dress.  It was white with layers in the skirt.  I only wore it on the most special occasions. I put on matching tights and matching shoes.  I felt like a princess. I hoped he would think I looked pretty. He was the only one who had an opinion that mattered.  At least on that day that’s how it was.

My first date.

I heard someone call that it was time to go.

I majestically floated to the top of the stairs, knowing all eyes would be on me. I was Cinderella at the ball.  I noticed quickly that my dad didn’t get quite as dressed up as me.  I didn’t know why not because we were going to the fanciest restaurant in the world: Olive Garden.  I felt a little shy as I walked downstairs.  That wasn’t the princess way.  But my dad thought I looked beautiful and that made me feel nervous.

We went out to eat and I was as proper as I could be.  We ordered fancy food and drank from pretty glasses. I don’t know what we said to each other, if we said anything at all.  That’s not what I cared about.

I was wearing my prettiest dress. It was just me and my dad. That’s all that mattered.

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