Man, it has been a week. I’ve had a cold (not COVID) and, for whatever reason, struggled to write much.
Kudos to those of you who crank out quality posts every single day, sometimes multiple in one day. I spew forth something occasionally, nonsense most of the time, but this week the well has been fairly dry.
The W3 prompt this week was a quote:
Honestly, I had no idea. When have I ever felt infinite? Pretty much never.
I tried writing something about swimming, because there’s something about stretching out in the water, and reaching towards the far wall that’s very Zen, but not infinite. That poem went into the trash.
On one of the days when I was home sick, I decided to tackle some of the sorting that needs to happen in this house. I live in my parents’ house, the house I grew up in, and it is chock FULL of stuff.
I found the remnants of my mother’s wedding dress. She had given it to me so the lace could be used for my wedding dress. For whatever reason, those remnants were saved. In a box. Under a bed.
The remaining lace was quite yellowed. The heavy satin that the lace had been layered over was spotted and almost brown.
“I should throw this away,” I said out loud. I resolved to do just that.
But I couldn’t.
Kudos to those of you who can or could.
It’s just beyond me.
I closed the box.
But I went back to it multiple times, wrestling internally with what should be done.
That’s when I decided that I would ask one of my sons to help me bury it. Somehow, allowing that satin and lace to become one with the earth again seemed fitting for my mother’s dress.
She always loved a garden.
Finite? Infinite? I’m not sure.
But I did crank out a poem if you care to read it at the bottom.
My mother gave her wedding dress
To me so I
Could use the lace for my gown.
I frown, I sigh
As I find the remains of that
Dress so many
Years later. A wreck of a thing –
Fitting, any
Joy I might have had now replaced
With a heartache.
The box holds scraps of what once was –
I pause – head-shake —
What do I do? “Throw it away,”
Says one voice in
My mind. “It’s just garbage now.”
Somehow the bin
Is not the proper place for it.
It is a wreck –
Like my life – but I simply will
Not kill that speck
Of what – Love? Hope? Truth? Connection?
It is a dress!
Nothing more and yet so much more –
But for my yes
My own promise — oh, how I grieve!
I will bury
The scraps. My heart is still not free
To be merry
Hot Dogs and Marmalade 
Some things from our past are hard to let go of.
Beautiful photos, my you look like your mum 💜💜 you both look beautiful… and your day looks nice too .
Beautiful dresses and you both had Lilley of the valley bouquets. Those are my favourite flowers and my dad God rest his soul, loved them too.
Your poem speaks volumes and is from the heart .💜💜
Absolutely beautiful and heartfelt words. I agree with Willowdot, you do look alot like your mom. You both are very beautiful. I love how you created a poem based on scraps from your Mom’s wedding dress. 💖
You captured the angst of letting go so perfectly in this poem! ❤
If I captured it, it’s because I’m feeling it so intensely
This is beautiful. The photos and the words that resulted, Sally.
That’s a lovely thing you did with the remains of the beautiful dress.
Thanks for sharing this real story. Xo
I love the vibrations of the soul in this poem. Sentimentality has its own orbital pull. And it can be so strong at times. The entire post is lovely. Happy Sunday, Sally. 💕
Unreal, Sally; so incredibly touching; I am so, so moved…
~David
Thank you, David. It was hard to write.
I can only imagine…
This is such a personal, beautifully written piece.
With your permission, I’d love to share it as a reblog at some point in the future – but no pressure, of course! (and I totally understand if you feel that it’s too personal to be reblogged)
Much love,
David
As a reblog, that’s just a link to my post, right? If that’s the case, I think there’s too much blather in the whole post. That’s why I didn’t even put on Mr. Linky. If it was just the poem, then yes — but I don’t know how you would do that.
It would be just the poem. That’s how I do it.
That would be fine then. I’m honored.
🤗
Oh, Sally, how my heart aches for you! The poem captures so much. Blessings to you sweet friend.
Beautifully written.
Your experience of letting go of the remnants of your mom’s wedding dress touched me deeply. I’m there emotionally with memory items of both my parents. Your poem captures the emotion and the memories so well. 🥹
Beautifully said and filled with emotion and your inner turmoil. Those pictures and your memories give life to the beauty of the dress and the moment…burying the remnants will never take away the joy of what was 💞💞💞