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A story of a woman and her wedding dress. |
Word Count: 1,019 The Wedding Dress Elena sat on her bed, holding her wedding dress, and felt tears rush to her eyes. She had last worn this dress sixty three years ago, and oh how the world had changed since then. Now, everyone lived their lives on telephones and computers. Then, people had to rely on handwritten notes. Now, children stayed indoors, watching TV and playing video games. Then, children longed to run outside with their friends and roll around in the dirt. Now, she was alone and tired. Then, she was in love and joyful. Elena held her wedding dress and remembered the first time she put it on. It was her grandmother's, and both her grandmother and mother had worn it, and now it was to be passed down to her. It was beautiful, and stark white despite how long it had been in the family, but it was also two sizes too big for her. She was only twenty at the time, and the excess fabric had weighed her down. She remembered telling her mother that although she was honoured to wear it, she wished there had been a bit more of her in the dress. Maybe some lace, maybe some flowers. Her mother shushed her and told her to be grateful that she even had a wedding dress. In those days, it would have been impossible to afford a new dress. Her mother was a seamstress by trade and so she took Elena's measurements, and said the dress would be ready for her wedding day. Elena recalled the day of her wedding. She was nervous but utterly excited. Although she and Henry did not know each other too well, they had been school mates and she always thought that he was extremely handsome. He would make her laugh every time they were together and she thought that she was very lucky that she would be able to call him "husband" soon. When Elena took her dress out of the box, she remembered how a most unladylike gasp slipped from her lips. Her mother had transformed the dress into something that was almost unrecognizable. There was pretty lace on the bodice and feminine florals stitched on to the skirt. She could not have imagined a more beautiful dress, even if she went to the salon and bought it herself. Her mother came into the room, and helped her put on the dress in silence. Her mother was never one for words. However, when Elena bent down to put on her shoes, she could see her mother out of the corner of her eye, wiping her eyes swiftly. That gesture alone gave Elena the confidence she needed to walk out of the room into the church. She didn't remember much of the day itself, but she recalled how happy she was to have all of her family and friends, and her brand new family there celebrating. Henry was utterly handsome and such a gentleman as he took her to bed that night. After their first child, she took this dress out of her closet and cried. She wasn't sure she could be the perfect mother to her perfect child, and she was afraid that Henry would think less of her for it. After their second child, she took this dress out of her closet and cried again. This time, she was so incredibly happy, her heart so full of joy because they had brought a second miracle into this world. She did this again for the next two children. She did not think about or hold her dress for many years after that, but instead focused on being the very best wife and mother that she could be. When her only daughter Carmen, the youngest of her children, reached age eighteen, Elena brought her into this very room to show her the dress. She told her its story, how it had stayed in her family for generations, and how honoured she would be if her daughter were to wear it to her own wedding. Five years later, Elena took the dress out again and cried at the unfairness of the world, how it could take her precious daughter and she blamed God for making alcohol and making cars and making people stupid enough combine these two. She vowed she never wanted to look at this dress again, and swore she would destroy it rather than having to live with the memory that her daughter would never get the chance to wear it. But life went on, and she forgot about the dress hidden in the back of her closet. She dedicated herself to her husband, her three sons, and her five grandchildren. Now, sitting in her bedroom holding this dress, with all of her sons and grandchildren waiting for her downstairs, she remembered all that this dress meant to her. It was something that reflected her joy, her sorrow, her love for her family. There was a knock on the door and her oldest, Frank, entered the room. "Mom, are you ready yet?" He was dressed all in black and looked somber. She knew how difficult Henry's death had been on her children, and although she had felt herself unraveling multiple times, she convinced herself to remain strong for them. "What's that?" Frank asked. He had never seen the dress - the only child she showed it to was Carmen. She decided that she did not want Frank to see or know about the dress. It was something special that she had shared first with Henry and later with Carmen, something that she would take to the grave as the two of them had done before her. "Nothing, sweetheart. Now, if you could just help me off the bed and we can get going." Frank laid out his arm and she heard his voice asking if her sister was going to meet them there. She took one last look at her wedding dress sitting on the bed, and as Frank led her out of the room, she noticed how at this angle, the lace looked yellow, and the flowers had started to unravel. |