Prom

We had a team in place.

Her hair was done by a local hairdresser who’d offered to spruce up the special school pupils for free. 

My brother took her to the appointment, then dropped her off at Grandad’s.

My friend popped in to do her make-up.

My other mate looked after my boy after school.

I fretted as my mum had a blood transfusion at hospital, hoping the drip drip drip would drop drop drop fast enough to let me get back home in time to get my daughter into her dress and take her to her school leavers’ prom.

I made it in time.

We did it.

She's tucked up in bed now. Her face was flushed when we picked her up. Apparently, she had danced all night.

"They played Abba, The Greatest Showman, and Grease - you're the one that I want, ooh, ooh, ooh," she gushed.

I left her make-up on. Chucked her pills down her, let her make a token effort at cleaning her teeth. Tucked her in. 

She was shattered, and utterly content.

A day of running around. Organising and launching the team. Worth every clock-watching second of it. 

We did it.

Look at her.

Just look.

Video is This Is Me, from The Greatest Showman.