At prom, only one boy asked me to dance because I was in a wheelchair. Thirty years later, I saw him again—and this time, he needed help.

Afterward, I worried about being seen.

When prom came, I told my mom I wouldn’t go.

She stood in the doorway holding my dress and said, “You deserve one night.”

“I deserve not to be stared at.”

“Then stare back.”

She helped me into my dress.

“I can’t dance.”

She stepped closer. “You can still be in the room.”