Over 60 years ago – my Mother wore this dress proudly down the aisle on her special day.
For years it sat in an old trunk along with other ‘stuff’ I had saved for whoever knows what reason.
I knew it was there all along but I don’t know how I ever became the owner of it in the first place. Perhaps I asked – perhaps she gave it to me one day in the hopes that I would wear it like she did. I don’t know – parts of my memory are blank pages and although always frustrating, I’ve come to live with it.
What I do know is that I could never have worn it no matter what. I could never even get the sleeve over my arm let alone the dress over my body! Food wasn’t as plentiful during the war and they were married shortly afterwards.
Once renovations were finally completed on the third floor of the big blue barn, I dug it out of the old trunk and took it to a special dry cleaner to have it restored. Then my house guest built a stand for it so that the train of the dress would not touch the floor and get dusty and dirty once more.
Unfortunately the pictures do not show the tiny 3 cluster pearls sewn into the lace bodice here and there. Nor did I take pictures of the tiny satin covered buttons that run down the back of the dress. I often wonder who did all those buttons up for Mom when her hands would have been shaking with anticipation as someone settled the veil on her hair. Who did up the tiny snaps on the sleeves? I never got around to asking or perhaps it’s one of those blank pages again.
It stands beside my dresser – the stains and dirt gone – the old satin beautiful as it shines in the morning sun. And even though there are blank pages, I’m hoping that looking at it every day when I rise will write new pages that remain forever scribbled upon with the thoughts and dreams of my own that my Mother’s dress causes to impress upon my memory.
One picture with flash – one without.