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They worked, they studied, then they partied at prom. They signed each other’s yearbooks. They traded cell phone numbers and email addresses. They hugged and promised to stay in touch, and they pressed their eager beaks against the fencing wire of their chickhoods, and then–then!–they took their first steps into their unfettered futures.
Their coming of age.
Their freedom.
They can drive, vote, fight wars, and sign contracts.
They can marry, divorce, have babies of their own.
They can love, laugh, fly, dream.
Mostly, I hope they dance.
She was voted Most Likely to Succeed.
Prom King.
Prom Queen.
Most Likely to Need Psychological Counseling.
Good luck, Class of August 2009! May the egg be with you!
