Thousand Oaks High School held its prom recently at the Peterson Automobile Museum. It was a rite of passage for most seniors, and my daughter and her friends were no exception.

As an AP photography student, my daughter's camera was an extension of her. Wherever she went, whatever activity she was involved in, her camera was by her side. Of course, it wasn't unusual to see her leave for prom with her camera in hand, eager to make permanent memories through her lens. I almost told her to leave the camera at home, but how could I expect her to participate in a once-in-a-lifetime experience without shooting some pictures?

We took photos of her with her camera, as all parents do before sending off their children to prom. She took photos of her friends before leaving Thousand Oaks for Los Angeles. She called me at midnight to say they had stopped at Mel's Drive-in for malts and fries- - and to tell me her camera had been stolen from her bag at the prom.

She and her girlfriend spent two hours of their prom with security guards and student advisers trying to determine who might have stolen the camera. I'm sure she's spent several moments each day since then, thinking about not only the missing camera, but also the lost photos from prom and others she hadn't saved.

I'm sure she'll continue thinking about how she will record lasting impressions of all the upcoming events that are standard for someone her age.

A culminating performance of ballet after 10 years of training, graduation, grad night, special moments with longtime friends before everyone goes their separate way, and finally, moving to Texas Christian University this fall.

It could be worse, of course. After all, a camera is replaceable. It's not an arm or a leg or a life. But my daughter's camera was her own, something worked for and paid for with her own earned money. It was a part of her as are the memories made lasting through her lens.

What a shame that only her memories must last a lifetime. Elizabeth Spencer Thousand Oaks