I will always love you 80's

A spotlight shines in my eyes and wakes me from my daydream. I am standing on a narrow stairway at the side of a stage. It appears to be a high school auditorium. The tall red velvet curtains to my right are drawn back with a large golden cord. I glance around the room and see that it is filled with a cheering crowd. Behind me stands a row of teenage girls dressed in formal gowns. Not the kind we would wear to a prom. These are like the ancient southern belle kind, complete with hoop skirts. The girls are trying to squish the hoops to make them fit into their narrow surroundings. The two standing directly behind me look like twins. Both wearing pink, and both with the strangest hair I have ever seen. I mean, I have seen big hair before, and it can be pretty, but these girls have bangs in the shape of a fan, sticking up above their foreheads! What on earth are they thinking? They must realize that this isn’t a good look for anyone. Maybe they plan to do a comedy routine. Just as I am trying to take it all in, I hear my name called and the person with the microphone walks to my side of the stage. I have no choice but to step up. My body goes through the motions. I’m not sure if this is what I am supposed to do, but I do recall my mom showing me how she used to walk the runway routine for beauty pageants. I just go through what I remember. The crowd applauds as I smile and turn. “If you need to let your smile relax, you do that while your back is to the crowd.” My mom’s voice is in my head. I am lead to the back of the stage and through curtains to a dressing room. Girls of all ages are rushing to change clothes, and their mothers are there, doing things like spraying their daughter’s hair or applying mascara. “Is that you Grandma Anne,” I ask with a hoarse voice. I haven’t seen her in two years. She had a heart attack, and she didn’t make it. She looks so young, and so happy. “Hello dear,” she says as she hands me a tube of lip gloss. “I just picked it up today. I know you always wear cinnamon satin, but I think this watermelon will look just perfect with your red dress.” She gives me a little hug and memories come rushing back. So many fun times spent at her house. She taught me so much. How to bake a cake and how to sew. I breathed in and caught the scent of her favorite soap. It has a hint of lilacs and vanilla. She once told me she sat down and made a new dress to wear to work the next day. A whole dress in one night. I remember her saying how she would spread my mom’s pageant dresses out on her bed and hand sew beadwork and ribbons along the huge full skirts. Grandma loved doing things like that. She once made me a pale blue Alice in Wonderland dress to wear in the costume contest at school. I carried my stuffed Cheshire cat to school with me that day. I was so proud of the dress she made for me. My thoughts were interrupted when a commotion erupted on the other side of the room. “Hey, no dads allowed,” yelled a mom as she quickly yanked a dress up to cover her pre-teen daughter who stood there in just a bra and slip. “Excuse me the man mumbled as he made his way over to hand something to his wife, then he maneuvered his way back out the door he came in, dodging makeup cases and a rack of dresses. Grandma Anne stood with a hand on her hip. She did that when something had her dander up. “Well, can you believe that!”, she huffed. Here let’s hurry and get you into your talent costume in case he comes back. She began piling a dress over my head. Then immediately began working at my hair with a teasing comb and a can of stiff hairspray. She was in her element. She was one happy little Grandma. ​​​A Dolly Parton want- to-be came into the room announcing, “Ladies, just ten minutes till stage time. Do we have all cassettes and LP records if you are using music in your talent act?” “What? I don’t own a cassette or LP. What is she talking about Grandma,” I ask. “Don’t worry dear. I gave your cassette to the MC when I arrived. You’re all set to sing!” A wave of panic went through me. No, make that a wave of nausea, definitely nausea.” I can’t actually sing Grandma,” I say. “I don’t even know any songs.” “Don’t be silly dear,” she says, laying a reassuring hand on my arm. You are singing “I will always love you.” “Wait,” I ask, “Which one, the Whitney Houston version or the Dolly version?” “Well, it’s your choice honey, one you just hold the notes a bit longer.” She gives me a heartwarming smile. “You will be just fine!” She fluffs the fabric of my red dress and bends to adjust a bow. “Remember what happened last year,” she asks. I shake my head from side to side. She continues her story, “You know! When someone snuck into the dressing room and cut Silvia Shepard’s dress to pieces and broke her LP. They thought she couldn’t win without her music, but they were wrong! She went out there and tap danced without a soundtrack and still won first place!” “Wow,” I said. “That’s the kind of spirit it takes,” said Grandma. “You have to believe in yourself and not let anyone bring you down.” “Ok,” I said, “for you Grandma, I will sing for you.” “That’s the way,” she said, “just stand there and imagine that you and I are in the kitchen at my house, and you are just singing with me while we make our favorite strawberry cake. It’s just you and me, no audience.” So that’s what I did. I let myself picture her cozy little kitchen with the red Formica counter tops and the pink tablecloth and the scent of sweet tea brewing. I smiled and sang with all my heart, “IIIIII will alllways love youuuuu”. I was singing this one for my Grandma. I would always love her. I could see now that she and my mom must have had a lot of fun doing these pageants together. I admit to thinking critical thoughts about pageants. I mean, girls lining up and letting people judge them based on their looks, it seemed like a bad thing. I never told Grandma, but I’m pretty sure I gave my mom my opinion. After a few more acts performed there was an intermission. The winner would be crowned when we returned from the break. I was really getting into this 80’s music. The last act had been a girl in torn jeans and t shirt, wearing furry wolf gloves and ears, dancing to Thriller by Michael Jackson. Me and Grandma danced around a little backstage to this one. She said, ‘Honey if you think this music is fun, you would have loved the songs on the juke box back in my day. I will play you Chubby Checker’s The Twist when we get home and you and me will do some real dancing!” I laughed at her pure joy. Music has a way of bringing the generations together, I guess. I couldn’t believe it when the MC called my name and I was surrounded by people handing me a trophy, pinning a sash on me, and placing a glittering crown atop my three-inch hairdo. The crowd was cheering, and Grandma stood in the center of the audience beaming.  Then I heard my song playing again, drifting in from the other room. I was back in my own house. Back in my own time. I followed the music. My mom had a retro looking box beside her. She was going through a box of her old things. “Hi sweetie,” she said as she looked up with a faraway glance. “What’s that,” I asked, sitting down beside her, and crossing my legs. “I found my old boom box, and some of my favorite songs,” she said, handing me the cassettes of 80’s music. I reached into the box and took out the trophy. I was not surprised to see that it was the exact one I had been given just minutes ago. Mom said, “I guess I should throw this old junk out.” “Don’t you dare,” I said, giving her a playful elbow bump. “This isn’t junk, it’s a part of who you are.” She looked surprised. “Mom, I asked,” will you tell me more stories about the things you and Grandma did together?” She put an arm around my shoulder and pulled me in for a hug. “Did I ever tell you about the time we were lost on our way to a pageant in Jacksonville? We were driving through the Florida Everglades, and we were almost out of gas!” We laughed. “Grandma really needed GPS technology, “I said.