It was one of those sumptuous Halloween-eve evenings: crisp and cool, with a sliver of moon to light our walk home from a movie at the local theater. My husband and I were reminiscing about a perfect October 30 day exactly two years earlier – the wedding day of our daughter and son-in-law.
We whiled away the walk recalling the same autumn-crisp weather, the joyful dancing, and the abundance of friends and family. Then conversation lapsed, and we each slipped into our own thoughts. My meanderings wandered to our daughter Emily’s elegant wedding dress, and then to one she tried on 15 years before.
My wedding dress. The ivory satin gown, with a front panel of lace and long lace sleeves, had graced two family weddings: mine and my mother’s. From childhood I thought it was the most beautiful dress I’d ever seen, and wasn’t bothered by the thought of long sleeves on a July day. It turned out to be 107 degrees, but I don’t remember the heat as much as feeling as gorgeous as the dress.
Nevertheless, in its fifth decade it was yellowed with age. It became a dress-up costume when my daughter and her cousin discovered their mothers’ wedding gowns packed in brittle tissue in a high box in my parents’ back bedroom.
My sister Cindy and I were lounging by the pool when our daughters paraded onto the lawn modeling the two elegant gowns. Their faces provided all the accessories needed: smiles full of braces and giggles. Enchanted with the formal dresses and captivated by the anticipation of their unknown futures, they processed around their grandparents’ backyard, alternately serving as princesses, brides, and each other’s lady-in-waiting.
Cindy and I were chatting under the oak tree where we often swung from a tire swing with our brother. The same oak later shaded our paddle tennis games when we brought teenage friends home to play, and presided over both of our wedding receptions. We were swept up in the sudden memory-lane moment.
Mom came over when she heard the commotion. The three of us admired our girls, suddenly on the cusp of womanhood. Then they turned to Mom.
“Baba, you try on your dress! You wear it!”
She shook her head firmly. “It wouldn’t fit,” she said.
Now I have to break in at this point to say that my mom was – and is – the epitome of fitness. She and dad swim five mornings a week and provide walking tours at a botanic garden. You should see her when she boogie-boards in the surf at age 82, riding her board all the way up the sand, surprising beach-walkers with a big grin stretched across her face.
They eat a diet rich in fruits and vegetables. Whenever they return from traveling, she and Dad shed any pounds they’ve gained in a routine mom calls, “Eating off the hump.” She’s a wonderful cook, but you’ll starve if you eat there when they’re in camel mode. I’m sure she weighs less than I do, though I’d never submit to a comparison.
So Cindy and I can be forgiven for getting caught up in the moment. We cheered along with our daughters. “You’re in fantastic shape! Of course it will fit. Let’s try it on!”
“It won’t fit,” she insisted. “I’m just a different shape now.”
But with enough cajoling she allowed herself to be herded into the bedroom, where Emily slipped out of the dress and mom shed her gardening clothes. Four enthusiastic voices filled the air and four pairs of hands began work on the dozens of satin-covered buttons lined up like a month of pills up the back.
Suddenly came the realization: it wouldn’t fit. The cousins held the seams close together while Cindy and I stood back to assess the situation. Belatedly we saw what mom had foreseen. That the gown, rather than returning her dreamlike to a youthful princess, transformed her instead into the bride of . . . well, you get the picture.
Halloween stories don’t generally have morals, but I think one is called for here. Enjoy and keep your memories where they belong: tucked into your head, where your mind can work its magic apart from bodily reality.
Karen Telleen-Lawton, CFP®, is the principal of Decisive Path Fee-Only Financial Advisory
(www.DecisivePath.com) as well as an environmental and economics author and writer (www.CanyonVoices.com). She can be reached at:
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