You’re doing it perfectly, sweetheart.
She smiled and spun again.
Rosie had mosaic Down syndrome. Most strangers didn’t notice it immediately. But kids at school always noticed something. And some of them had spent years making sure she knew she was different.
I remembered the torn sleeve she claimed had caught on a locker.
The stuffed bear someone had drawn on with permanent marker.
The tears she tried to hide when I asked how school had gone.
“Fine,” she’d always say.
Just fine.
Now she was getting ready for prom.
And not just any prom.
The school’s star quarterback had asked her.
Steven Parker.
The boy whose name echoed through the football stadium every Friday night.
Three weeks earlier, he had shown up at our front door carrying a single white tulip.
He looked Rosie directly in the eyes.
“Would you go to prom with me?”
I was so shocked I answered before she could.
“Yes.”
Then I immediately apologized and let Rosie answer for herself.
My sister Megan cried when she heard the news.
“She deserves this,” she said. “Please let yourself enjoy it.”
I wanted to.
I really did.
But something kept bothering me.
Why Rosie?
Why would a popular athlete choose my daughter when he could have invited anyone?
The question lingered no matter how hard I tried to ignore it.
“Mom?”
Rosie stopped dancing.
“You’re making your worried face.”
“What worried face?”
“The one where your eyebrows get all twisty.”
I laughed despite myself.
“Come here. Let’s get you dressed.”
A few minutes later, I zipped up her pale blue gown and stepped back.
She looked beautiful.
Not because of the dress.
Not because of the makeup.
Because she looked happy.
Truly happy.
“You look like a princess,” I told her.
Her eyes widened.
“Really?”
“Really.”
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