I was 17 years old, and tonight was supposed to be one of the happiest nights of my life.
It was my high school graduation, the moment I had dreamed about for years. Everyone was talking about their outfits, their plans for the future, and the parties waiting for them after the ceremony.
But I had only one thing on my mind.
My mother’s dress.
It wasn’t an expensive designer gown. It wasn’t covered in diamonds or made by some famous fashion house. The satin had faded slightly with age, and the delicate stitching around the waist showed signs of wear.
But to me, it was priceless.
It was the dress my mother had worn when she graduated from high school. She had kept it carefully folded away, never imagining that one day her daughter would wear it for the same milestone.
When I was twelve, cancer took her away from me.