суббота, 14 апреля 2012 г.

The Wedding Dress

By Carol Harrison

A garden of Love grows in a Grandmother's heart.
~Author Unknown

I listened to my daughter describe the perfect satin and lace wedding gown. I visualized how beautiful she would look when she walked down the aisle with the heavy satin train flowing behind her. We arranged to go dress shopping in the near future. My excitement about this special shopping trip was offset by my worries about how we would pay for the wedding dress of her dreams.
My daughter Marles had been planning every detail of her wedding since she was a little girl. Satin and lace played a huge part in those plans. I hoped we could find a bridal shop offering huge discounts, even one with a "going out of business sale" like we had found two years earlier for my oldest daughter's wedding. Ideas popped into my head but I dismissed most of them as unrealistic.

But there was one idea that I couldn't dismiss as I thought about my mother's wedding photos and her model-like build, so similar to Marles'.

Forty-five years earlier my mother had eagerly planned her own wedding. Each month she saved whatever she could from her $100 pay cheque. Finally her savings grew large enough and she boarded a bus for the city, where the dress of her dreams awaited her. The ivory satin dress, with a flowing train, had lace panels inserted around the skirt. Tiny satin covered buttons covered the back of the dress. Matching buttons fastened delicate lace sleeves at the wrist. This elegant dress fit her tall, slim body beautifully. She saved enough to pay the sale price of $125.

As a little girl I had always admired the photos of my mother as a beautiful bride. By the time I reached my teens and began dreaming of my own Prince Charming and our wedding I had the story of the dress memorized. Sometimes Mom would open the cedar chest, lift out the dress and let me touch the soft, shiny fabric. Yet no matter how much I loved her dress, I knew I would never be able to wear it. The inches I lacked in height and shoulder width compared to my mother had settled around my waist making the dress an impossible fit for me in more ways than one. Warmed by the wonderful memories, I now dared to hope the dress would fit Marles.

I called my mom. "Mom, is your wedding dress still packed away in the cedar chest?"

"Yes. Why?" she replied.

"Marles wants an ivory satin and lace dress. I don't think we can afford that and I hate to disappoint her. I've been trying to figure out a way to give her what she really wants. Then I thought of your gorgeous dress."

Mom replied delightedly, "Well it's just been sitting there for years. I didn't think anyone cared about it. She'd be the only one it might fit."

Before I could say another word she added, "But the lace is starting to disintegrate. I think the satin's okay but we'd have to find lace. It's worth a try."

"Thanks Mom. I always loved your dress but it never fit me. Marles has seen wedding pictures so she has some idea of what it looks like. Can we get it sent to her?"

A few days later I watched Marles lift the folds of satin from the shipping box. Her fingers caressed the softness as we examined the lace, noticing small tears in the fragile fabric. We knew we could replace the lace... as long as the dress fit. And it fit well enough, as there were generous seams on each side of the bodice that could be let out. Marles twirled and waited for the train to settle around her ankles. The look on her face was priceless.

The next morning we found an ivory lace with an almost identical pattern to the old one. For the $95 cost of the lace and with free labour provided by a talented friend of mine, we had Marles' dream dress. Months later, Marles walked down the aisle with her satin train flowing behind her. Tears pooled in my eyes as I noticed the loving look that passed between my mother and my daughter. The fulfillment of two beautiful young women's wedding dreams, forty-five years apart, was wrapped up in one gorgeous, ivory-coloured satin and lace dress.

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