Tuesday, October 9, 2007

Writer's Island-Renewal

Treesa cast a critical eye on her reflection, turning sideways to avoid the morning sun pouring into the sewing room.

"You'll never remake this dress to fit me," she said, plucking at the delicate ivory fabric hanging loosely from her slender waist. "It was a stupid idea for me to wear your wedding dress anyway."

Anna managed a gentle "tsk" from around the mouthful of straight pens gripped between her lips. What made her daughter such a worrier? she wondered. Always determined that things wouldn't work out, that nothing would go her way.
Sighing, Anna reached underneath the dress and folded at least two inches of fabric toward the inseams. Such a "skinny minnie", too, picking at her food, turning up her nose at the hearty meals Anna prepared for the family's table.

Of course, with all this food rationing, Anna thought, it's no wonder she's wasting away to nothing. Since the States had entered the war two years ago, Anna was hard pressed to cobble together anything fit to eat. Treesa's delicate appetite had waned even further, faced with dishes like Spam Casserole, Oatmeal Loaf, and boiled beef tongue.

Anna could feel Treesa's impatience as she knelt beside her, lovingly caressing the folds of fabric as she continued to work. She smiled, remembering the excitement with which she and her mother had shaped this gown from yards of satin, the tremble of her mother's hands as she sewed the last of the 100 pearl buttons, the shiver of anticipation Anna had felt as she imagined Andrew unbuttoning each one on their wedding night.

Treesa's deep sigh roused Anna from these pleasant memories.

"Really, Mother," she said, "shouldn't we give up on this once and for all? I'm perfectly happy to wear the floral tea dress I had for Aunt Rose's birthday."

"You will not be married in some garish flowered, short dress!" Anna exclaimed. "I don't care whether it's wartime or not, or that "all the other girls" are doing it. You have the opportunity to wear a perfectly beautiful, traditional wedding gown, and that's what you'll do." She jabbed one last pin roughly into the fabric, offering a silent apology to her precious dress.

"Well, at least get rid of this silly sash," Tressa complained, grabbing a fistful of the pale blue satin ribbon wrapped twice around her waist. "No one would use a sash on their wedding dress in 1943!"

"Fine," Anna muttered, trying not to think about the way Andrew had gently placed the ribbon against her cheek, comparing the delicate blue material to the shade of her eyes. Young people have no appreciation for history, she thought, for tradition, or cherishing the things that matter. Rising from her knees, trying desperately to keep the annoyance from her voice, she released Treesa from her obvious discomfort.

"You can take off the dress now," she said, smoothing her red serge skirt and tucking a pincushion into the pocket of her apron. "I'll have to start work on it right after dinner if there's to be any chance of finishing it by Saturday."

Anna glanced at her daughter, who continued to stand motionless before the mirror. The sun had shifted slightly, leaving the girl standing in the midst of one solitary ray, as if a spotlight were shining directly from heaven, setting her auburn hair alight with sparks of reddish flame, illuminating the satin where it lay in gentle folds.

Tears jumped into Anna's eyes-such a beautiful girl was her Mary Teresa, she thought, catching her breath. About to start a new life with a young solider off to war, embark on a future that held only God knew what. Could wearing this dress bring her the kind of love Anna had felt for her Andrew, a love that would ignite a spark of light and happiness into those dark, shadowy eyes?

At last Treesa turned from the mirror, meeting her mother's teary gaze. "You know," she said, smiling slightly, "perhaps there's still some life in this dress after all."

Anna grinned, briskly wiping a tear from her cheek. "There most certainly is," she agreed. "Plenty of new life to go around!"






for more stories of renewal, go here

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22 Comments:

Blogger paisley said...

that was so beautiful... what a treasure,, i am so glad she realized it.....

10/09/2007  
Blogger jzr said...

Lovely piece of writing, Becca!

10/09/2007  
Blogger Jo said...

Lovely writing for a lovely tale!

10/09/2007  
Anonymous gautami tripathy said...

Great piece of writing Becca, I felt a lump in my throat.

10/09/2007  
Anonymous Rose Dewy Knickers said...

Poignant tale of a mother trying to let go of her daughter while holding tight to the past. Very well done.

Rose

xo

10/09/2007  
Blogger ally said...

This is a lovely story. Very real. So interesting of you to choose a WWII bride as the focus. Any family story like this one?

10/09/2007  
Blogger Michele L. Tune said...

Becca,

You always amaze me with your graceful words that float freely through the mind, tickling your reader's creative nooks.

For me, your writing is literally therapeutic. And, I never tire of reading what you write!

Girl, you are one FANTASTIC writer!!!

Smiles and best wishes for your success!!

Michele

10/09/2007  
Blogger ...deb said...

Warm and loving. It would bring a tear to my own mother's eye.

10/09/2007  
Blogger Pauline said...

Mothers and daughters! Often it's the biggest generation gap! This is a wonderful story.

10/09/2007  
Blogger tumblewords said...

Gentle and touching tale with well-told complexities of mother/daughter interactions. Very nice!

10/09/2007  
Blogger Robin said...

What a lovely story. I've long wondered whether it was worth keeping my own wedding gown, if my own daughter would ever want to wear it or if she'd find it hopelessly old-fashioned.

10/09/2007  
Blogger Lea said...

Just beautiful... the complexities of this tale all moved and shifted exactly as the sheen of satin will...

10/09/2007  
Blogger Dan said...

Becca, Thanks for visiting and I'm certainly glad I took the time to come here also. What a lovely story. A simple dress draws mother & daughter closer, amidst impending separation.

10/09/2007  
Blogger Gillian @ Indigo Blue said...

They always "get it" in the end.
Thank goodness. All we need is patience.
xo
Blue

10/09/2007  
Anonymous kimberley said...

I relish the treasures that bind generations together. And, as in your story, it's not so much the "thing" as its history and the love connected to it. Thank you for writing such a poignant piece.

10/09/2007  
Anonymous Fenny said...

What a lovely story ... I enjoyed it very much ... good choice of words and characterisation

10/10/2007  
Anonymous Matthew said...

Wonderfully written...I could feel both the love and tension between them. You've captured a moment that is both familiar yet shines with your deft touch.

10/10/2007  
Anonymous MissMeliss said...

Oh, lovely. What a sweet moment.

Oh, hey, CafeWriting.com is live. Come play with us.

10/10/2007  
Blogger Jane Poe (aka Deborah) said...

Wonderful story, Becca. Just lovely. Peace, JP/deb

10/10/2007  
Blogger Holly Mac said...

Beautiful story. Nicely done. It makes me wish I had reconsidered my mother's offer to wear her wedding dress. Perhaps it still had some life too.

10/10/2007  
Blogger paris parfait said...

That's so lovely, Becca! A sweet story.

10/10/2007  
Blogger deirdre said...

I was right there in the room watching this scene unfold. Beautiful.

10/12/2007  

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