Growing Up

t wasn’t until I felt the cold steel of the handcuffs scrape against my wrists that I realized the mistake I’d  made. And for what? For senior prom. Or that’s what I’d convinced myself of at the time. I needed spanks to look flawless in my prom dress. I needed a sequined mini-purse to hold my belongings while on the dance floor. I needed all of it. It would all be worth it. There would be no regrets because my prom night would be perfect.

There was no explanation to be said when the security officer stopped me. I had in my hands a large misshapen purse that looked as if an entire sleeping bag were clumsily stuffed in it. A series of events quickly occurred after I was escorted to the security room. Merchandise was recovered. Words were spoken. I was restrained. Tears were shed. Eventually, I was ushered out of the retail store.

My mother had arrived at the scene just as a police officer was walking me outside in handcuffs. She looked devastated. While I was sitting in the back of the police car, I could hear her shouting hysterically, trying to understand what was going on. A few minutes later, I was being driven to the downtown police station to be charged as a first time offender.

I had made a terrible mistake that night -- one that couldn’t be fixed. I would have to live with that mistake for the rest of my life.