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Saturday, June 18, 2011

She Was Only 15

Elizabeth Taylor, age 15.

Figgy was invited to join Moey's daughter, Laura, and about eight of Laura's friends in Montvale tonight for a group quinceaƱera--a surprise overnight getaway at a hotel with a pool, to celebrate all of the girls turning 15 this year.

Two of the wonderful moms planned it. It was so sweet. And thanks to Moey, who got a promotional email, they were able to snag rooms for $69 per night.

Several girls arrived blindfolded with pretty chiffon scarves--their moms had packed their swimsuits and pajamas, but not told them where they were going. They led them in by the elbows. Moey drove Laura and a few friends over, and they didn't know, either. None of them found out until they got to the hotel lobby and saw their friends. [Figgy knew, because I had told her, not realizing it was a surprise.]

They swam, and had pizza, chips and veggies with dip. Just about every last baby carrot and broccoli floret on the huge tray vanished. Then at about 9 P.M., one girl's musical Dad came to seranade them along with three other young singers, including a handsome young high school sophomore who is older brother to one of the party girls. Later, two trays of cake with candles came out, and the girls all sang to each other, and we to them. They're sleeping over--all except a girl who has soccer in the morning and Figgy, the only one from another town, who had chosen not to stay beforehand. We left at about 11:30.

I am grateful for tonight--for the honor of bearing witness, with Moey and other parents, to daughters teetering on the cusp of adulthood, but still young and carefree enough to laugh and sing and dance in their pajamas by the pool on a moonlit night. It meant something special to be there with Moey, too. We've been close friends forever. We were together through morning recess, nuns, Catholic school uniforms, bras, buckle-back jeans, May processions, boyfriends, proms, broken hearts--and for triumphs academically and on the track. For 12, 13, 14, 15, 16, 17, 18, 19 and way beyond. For long phone calls and Girl Scout camping trips. We were blessed with each other, and with other good friends, who have borne witness to our girlhoods, to our lives. Tonight, Moey was dancing and laughing with my auburn-haired Figgy, who has always loved her. When I looked at Figgy, I could see her jovial young girl self. I have missed that part of her lately.

Long live girls--all they stand for, all they share. All their glory, their goodness, their bounce and their strength. Their songs, their laughter, their bikinis, their flip-flops, their pizza, their peering into the future. Their long hair, their braces. Their new hands with mascara. Their standing by one another through beauty and pain.

Long live all those gorgeous teens. May life treat them kindly. May they always remember the way it feels to be young and free and lucky to be a girl among girls. And how it feels to have mothers and dads who stand back and adore you, reveling in your pure joy, in your swirls on the dance floor, wanting you to have pink birthday candles and big wishes and good friends forever and ever and ever. Amen.

  1. Boot camp in the park.
  2. Walked Sug around block once.
  3. Reined in my spending a bit.


  1. I really like this post – what a wonderful (but often difficult) time of life. And I'm glad that you have had the forever friendship of Moey all these years. Love, Linda

    ("Hi Moey," if you are reading this.)

  2. Hi Lin...thank you....i think often of you and Sis as teenagers, the teen girls I admired, with the dresses you sewed and the makeup you wore, your air of teen mystery, Tiger Beat and, alice