It wasn’t the cold front that dropped the temperatures from the 80s to the 60s in the space of an hour or two and left me shivering in my skirt and flimsy top beside my son on the field with the homecoming court.
It wasn’t the announcement of my son’s date as homecoming queen.
It wasn’t the senior picture photo shoot on a chilly Saturday morning. Or my husband’s appearance on The Fox News Network that day, either.
It wasn’t the last chaos of pictures before the dance in the lobby of the hotel because it was too cold outside by the lake or even the impromptu dinner with friends afterwards.
What made the last homecoming memorable was the phone call that woke us from deep sleep Saturday night. For the first time in, well, ever, we didn’t have either phone in the bedroom with us. When my ringtone sounded from the other room, we both startled awake, confused. I missed the call. Then Jeff’s phone started.
My heart was pounding, of course, because my overactive imagination had played out this scenario way too many times. Something terrible had happened. I just knew it. My husband hung up. Started dressing.
“The valet lost the key.”
“What?” I sat down on the bed, trying to process the words. I glanced at the clock. Almost midnight. The dance had been over for an hour.
“He said they waited and waited for the car. Everyone else had gone. Then they told him they lost the key. I have to take him your keys.”
Because of course he’d taken my car. At least he’d taken the spare key.
A half hour later, we were both tucked back into bed, still in wonderment of such a thing happening. How does a valet company lose a car key? We finally fell back asleep. Our son arrived home later after pancakes and a movie at his date’s house. The final homecoming excitement was over and done with.
Or so we thought. But with the lost key, the drama spilled over into Monday, Tuesday, and now Wednesday. I’ll spend several hours with my car at the dealership today having a new key programed. At least I’m not the one paying for it! And we’re getting a gift certificate from the hotel, too. Honestly, I’d forego that in exchange for not having to deal with the whole thing. But such is life.
At least we’ll never forget the last homecoming. It just wasn’t the kind of “memorable” we’d imagined!