I drift my tension around the store. Taking a last glimps of things as my sister pays for her items. My eyes catch the attention of a rack of wedding gowns. I walk to them and touch their plastic cages that encase them. I feel sadness for them. For the memories of the sacred day lay in them and now they wind up here, in a consignment store.
I am in no way against the consignment store. Absolutely not. I find such stores inspirational in all their treasures and do much of my shopping in them. It just seems like the last place for one to find a wedding dress.
While I think of all the precious memories of dancing and joy these dresses must hold my mind directs me to a memory. The memory of my sister recently giving away her wedding gown that she hung onto for 18 years from a marriage that never happened. How many of those dresses never got to shine. Then, what about those dresses that were abandoned at the altar or perhaps discarded in their prime the night before the wedding when their owner discovered an indiscretion on their fiancé’s part. Oh, the stories these dresses could tell. The memories that are imprinted in them.
Deepak Chopra says in his book The Spontaneous Fulfilment of Desire that we imprint on things we touch. What energy would I feel if I tried on this old lacy one I wonder. They are all trapped in these plastic zipper bags. Like puppies in the store they are aching to get out and live their destiny. They ache to have confetti thrown at them and dirt all along the bottom him. They want that joy.
I think of my own wedding dress. When I found it in a store it felt like everything would be perfect. It was so right. I had called my kindred friend to come and see it and when she walked in the store she cried. I never wanted to take it off. I try it on every year on our anniversary -minus my baby making years. I like to think my dress is happy sitting up in my closet knowing it is loved and that it is living its destiny.