I’m standing between the parents, waiting for the arrivals at the Matric Farewell.
Unlike them, I’m watching the incoming cars.
The parents, on the other hand, are letting it rip.
“My daughter spent six months finding this dress, and we only had twenty minutes before the wind destroyed her hair for photos.”
“The price of the dress alone doesn’t feel real. All that money, and then twenty minutes of rushing around while everyone worried about the time.”
“And then the car arrived late.”
“That’s nothing. Her heel broke.”
By the time the first matrics arrive, I’ve usually heard half a dozen versions of the same story.
Different families. Different schools.
Same day.
Same stress.
It’s one of the reasons more and more families along the Swakopmund and Walvis Bay coast are choosing to do their matric photos before the Farewell.
Not because the Farewell isn’t important.
But because nobody wants to remember the day feeling rushed.