That Blasted Box

April 28, 2014

Sitting quite nonchalantly in my garage is a big ole box of puffiness. It has moved from leaning precariously next to the freezer to on top of some broken screens on top of a shelf in the corner of my garage. This once hallowed box…relegated to the most unsacred of places…the garage. It’s a mystery to me what I should do with that blasted box.

This rather large white box holds my wedding dress. A mass of satin and lace. I was married in the 90s so it’s big and poufy – beautiful, but big and poufy nonetheless. I doubt, unless fashion comes WAY back around that any of my daughters will ask to wear it. I don’t know if I’d want them to or not.

I’ve considered donating it, but something holds me back. My oldest daughter suggested we make pillows with it – those would be some gaudy pillows to be sure! I’ve thought about just keeping some of the fabric, but truly it’ll just end up in the basement tucked away in a box with all the other fabric I’m not going to do anything with for the next 20 years. (The number of projects I’m compiling for my empty-nest years is staggering!)

I assume there is some sort of interesting psychological issue for me keeping it in the garage haphazardly thrown between the freezer and the bikes. Keeping it is probably the bigger issue – not the throwing. Throwing it anywhere including away would be more understandable in some ways. What am I doing with this silly dress – or maybe I should ask, “What am I going to do with this silly dress?”

It’s not the only wedding paraphernalia I’ve kept. I have a box in the basement full of special things from my wedding and honeymoon. There are love notes and cards – even ones I received during the last weeks and months before my husband left. I keep them because I want my children to see that we really loved each other. I hope that’s a good idea. The dress doesn’t fit in the box – otherwise I’d have probably crammed it in there by now.

Really there are plenty of pictures of me in the dress. That should suffice. I guess I want that dress to mean something it can’t anymore. My dress is just a symbol of lost hopes and dreams…betrayal and lies. Wow, that would make a great Lifetime channel movie, “On at 9 pm. Watch “The Wedding Dress” where lace and satin turns to lies and scandal!”

I know that I’m blessed because I don’t look at it with regret. I’m thankful that I had 17+ lovely years of marriage. There’s something to be said for blissfully unaware. Marriage wasn’t always easy or fun, but I loved my husband and loved being married. Maybe that’s why I struggle with what to do with the dress. I don’t really have bad memories – well, not until the end. And those memories were about someone very different than the man I walked towards down that aisle. God is so gracious to give me good memories and a pretty okay perspective about the present. I’m so thankful because otherwise I’d have probably burned the dress in the middle of the cul-de-sac while I danced around it like a nut.

Sitting here pondering my wedding dress predicament has made me realize that my wedding dress symbolizes my marriage not my divorce. It’s a picture of happier times, and maybe I can appreciate it for that reason alone. Although that doesn’t mean I need to keep it indefinitely. It was a lovely dress to wear. Maybe there is some sweet young bride who would be blessed to wear it…or maybe someone would like some rather ornate white pillows for their sofa? Anybody??

 

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