Band Banquet 2005

I enter the gym through the cafeteria. The scent of overcooked fills the air and I realize how hungry I am. I broke my own rule -- always eat before any kind of business or school function.

It's cool outside still and so inside it's stuffy, with the heater being turned on for tonight's event. I immediately smell the familar scent of school, some heady mix of disinfenctant, potato mix, sweat. Do all schools smell the same? And does every school have the same colors of flat, cool blue and medical green? Does some state regent require that all schools smell, look and feel the same?

Or is it just so easy to be transported back to the days of high school?

We find friends and sit at long tables, scrimping into the crowded rows, trying hard not to step on anyone's legs. We make small talk -- where we went today, where are the other kids - stuff that is pleasing, easy to discuss, safe.

Our school is proud of its music program with good reason. Awards, trips, acclaim are part of this school's musical legacy.

I'm one of the flunkie moms. I don't show up for sewing duty, I don't park cars during ball games, I don't stay late to put up chairs after such event. All I do is cheer for my kid and take pictures of he and his friends. I am very proud.

I watch as our community of friends mingle. We're all over tired, stressed during this "year end" festival of activities. Once I read that families are more time-strapped and money -strapped during May than even during December. I believe it. With pictures, school events, clothes and tickets, May is deadly for budgets. We spend it easily and gladly, like all the families here.

I see realtors, bankers, community counselors, teachers. I see people that I've spoken to for almost five years, but couldn't tell you their name. But I could tell you most everything else about them..we've sat in the equivalent of church in this sport-obsessed town -- basketball games, football halftimes. We don't pray together, but we've cried as our kids have lost tournaments and cheered when the last goal was scored. It's as much a family as any church and this gym is our cathedral.

This is a big event for our town so the kids are wearing fancy clothes. Boys are overdressed, underconfident, gangly and lean. Girls have their hair up, nail polish sparkles, spiky shoes are worn with pain. It's a dress rehearsal for other things coming, all too soon.

The line for the food is too long, my stomch is churning. The drinks are watery, the rolls cold. The speeches too long and I can't hear. I watch the video screen for glimpses of my kid and my friends. I watch and I wait. I know what is coming.

This time next year, my son will be graduating and this will be a ritual we repeat for memories of his senior year. We get ready to leave and I ask for a picture of his and his friends. They roll their eyes, eager to get on out with friends. They are patient, I snap a few shots.

As I do, the other families of the other boys appear at my side. The boys rush by to be with each other and girlfriends, grab a coke, enjoy the early night. We stand watching them go. We look past each other, try to talk but we all know, there is no getting around it.

We are fast becoming part of their past, part of what they may remember as they sit in dorm rooms, plan their lives, live their dreams. We are falling away like the first petals on a bloom...once there to give it structure, then dropping to make way for the showier parts.

We say good-night, we say we'll share the pictures, let's get together soon.

We hang on to each other, trying hard to let them go.