I listened second-hand to her breathy excitement on the voicemail picked up too late to call back.
My older daughter, the child who forced me to grow up, picked up her wedding dress last night and I'm sure it's even more beautiful than she reported.
She and the dress are a thousand miles away, but it feels like it could be another galaxy. It's difficult for a family to be geographically dispersed for major events, but sometimes it's just as challenging to be apart for the mini-milestones.
I know what the dress looks like, she emailed me pictures and called from the store months ago. But it's the details I ache for this morning.
Her skin has always been almost translucent alabaster, was there a rose rush of excitement through her shoulders and throat when she looked in the mirror?
Did the dress slide over her head easily or was there still a little of the clumsy kid who went a little-too-fast when she was excited?
Did she have the right shoes on graciously completing the silhouette or were her bare toes sneaking past the hem like they always did no matter how carefully I wrapped the baby blanket?
In May there will likely be hundreds of images in the dress and her hair, make-up and accessories perfect. But I hurt this morning for lack of the "before" picture - the one adorned only in excitement and promise.
Yes, I am obsessive about having photographs of details and the large and small events in the lives of those I love. Carefully arranging them in scrapbook volumes allows me my "Time in a Bottle."
Unfortunately the "bringing the dress home" spread lives only in my head.
It's a shame. It's truly beautiful.


Copyright 2007 Judi Griggs