It occurred to me this morning that it really makes no sense that the dress that you wear on the most important day of your life is a dress that you wear only once. It’s worn, cleaned and preserved perhaps with the hope that a future daughter might wear it…yeah, still a little bitter about that one (seriously God–THREE boys…well at least I don’t have to share shoes).
I remember buying that dress. Oddly, I was alone when I found my wedding dress. It wasn’t planned that way, but the dress that my mother had approved and paid for was not the dress that the bridal store ordered. When I went to pick up my gown, it was the wrong gown. Just another bit of drama in the most dramatic wedding ever planned…never again… It was impossible to get the gown in time to sit for my portrait so I had no choice but to start over at a new bridal boutique..no doubt.
I ran into the store on a rainy spring day hoping to just weed through some choices for my mother to approve. The dress wasn’t even what I thought I wanted until I tried it and it was. The pearls and crystals on the straps crossing my back were exquisite, the color was the most beautiful ivory ever, and the train was short enough to interfere with the cathedral length veil. The perfect dress for the perfect day for what I had hoped to be a perfectly sweet calm life.
I’m going dress shopping again today. I’m not going alone this time. It’s too important. I need someone to hold my hand while I pick out the dress, stockings and shoes that I will wear when I tell you goodbye. Why does it feel like I’m buying a dress that again…will change my life forever?