It was love at first sight. There you were, just hangin’ out.
Black, velvety, and all strung out. You were much too mature for
me for I was only eleven.
I pretended to like the others.
There was a silky, white blouse with a bow that acted like a tie.
A pleated, wool skirt that would catch anyone’s eye.
Flashy, white go-go boots and a rainbow-colored mini skirt.
And an old, useless wedding dress that turned the color of vanilla
because of its age.
A couple of summers, I would sneak into my mother’s closet
and act like different characters when I tried on her clothes.
But, you never fit right. I felt all “gangly” in it. Way too big,
too long, too large in the chest area (if you know what I mean), too
Several years later my mom called me because she was cleaning out
her closet, “Do you want this old, black dress? I was going to
throw it out, but I remembered you always tried it on when you
were a little girl.”
I hung up on her and rushed right over there. I am actually excited.
I carefully put the dress on and it fit me like a glove!
I still have it and I hope to give the dress to my daughter one day.