I’M JUST SAYING: THE DRESS

I went to the mall recently looking to buy a white blouse. I didn’t find what I wanted at Macy’s so I went next door to the New York & Co store. There were plenty of white blouses, but none that screamed take me home. My eyes eventually rested on the cutest magenta colored, sleeveless sheath dress. There was only one left in that style. I took the dress off the rack and walked around with it for a while but I was in no mood for a try on. A saleswoman ambled over. “Do you think this will fit me?” I asked. She checked the label and replied, “No. I think it’s going be too big.” “Too big”? Dear Lord, I hadn’t heard those words in a very long time. I happily hung that dress back on the rack. I eventually picked out two other dresses and was at the cash register when a tall woman got on line behind me. I recognized her from somewhere around town. She had that pretty sheath dress in her hands. We began to chat. “I love that dress,” I gushed. “I had it in my hands but I put it back so it must be meant for you.” “I love it too,” she said. Then her eyes started to mist. She held the dress up and went on to say, “My mother just passed. This was her favorite color.” In that quick moment, I could feel the pain of her loss. I recalled something Patti LaBelle said that still rings true for me: “When your mother dies, the world shifts on its axis.” I’m a witness. It really does. I wanted to comfort the young woman more but that was not time or the place to ask a lot of questions, and especially since we are casual acquaintances and I couldn’t, and still can’t, remember her name. I hugged her though. The one question I was dying to ask, but didn’t, was if she was buying that pretty dress to bury her mother in or for herself to wear to her mother’s funeral.
I’m Just Saying that as much as I loved the dress and probably could have pulled it off even if it was a tad too big, I can’t imagine that it ever could have as much meaning for me as for the woman who ultimately wore it.