Beautiful, Abby. I've done this one, thanks to owning Two Pages and Writing about Memoir. Mine was choosing to wear denim overalls and bright orange Converse sneakers at 16 to go to family for Thanksgiving. My mother freaked out, screaming that I had to change, and then my father freaked out, and took one of my mother's antique blue glass candleholders, and smashed it to shards on her beautiful walnut dining room table, leaving a gash that still remains. He was over her harassing me for being myself. I'd never, ever seen him do anything vaguely violent in my life. The little kid inside of me was cheering him on. And truly, the only one who thought I was inappropriately dressed for the occasion was my mom. I went to Thanksgiving dressed in my favorite clothing. When we got to my cousin's house, the only one who was inappropriately dressed was my mother, father, and brother. Everyone else was wearing jeans. Huzzah! xo
My brother-in-law was getting married in a small town and we were staying in a motel near the wedding venue. My four year old daughter was a flower girl. She loved to swim and begged to have one last swim at the motel pool before putting on her fancy dress and going to the wedding. I was already dressed and ready to go, but wanted to indulge her so we went to the pool. She slipped into the deep end and started to drown. The lifeguard didn't notice, but I certainly did and jumped in to save her. She was fine, although I was shaken to the core. But with only about 10 minutes to find something else for me to wear to the wedding, I found an odd little store in the town that had one dress that fit me. It was white. I wore white to my brother-in-law's wedding, but all I could think of was my precious daughter going under and flailing and going under again.
You had a excellent reason. Not to have jumped in would have ruined your life and marred that day forever after. Your love saved her, far more important then wearing white to a wedding.
I remember that prompt. The side door you opened was a gift to that writer. What a story. Now I must scour my memory files for an inappropriate outfit.
Oh, Abby this is brilliant. That image of the woman pacing the roof in flip flops, having to make such a decision. You gave her her story and also gave it to us. Thank you.
Another version of this - after my mother died I went shopping. Not to get the right thing to wear, but to shop. I sure felt like my behavior was seriously inappropriate.
Yes, what a heartbreaking experience to experience, but what a gift you provided for her to find that side to put such heartbreak into words. My mind is alive with ideas now, thank you for sharing.
I remember being a kid (maybe 6 or 7 years old) at a large family gathering, and wearing a fancy dress (pink and frilly, maybe, but I don't remember the details). I didn't wear fancy dresses often, so I felt a little uncomfortable and like I was drawing too much attention to myself.
And then I did something bad: I grabbed a chair away from my sister, and she fell to the ground, and all the adults stopped what they were doing and looked at me. And I remember thinking, for those longest few seconds that I was the centre of everyone's attention: "If only I weren't wearing this stupid dress, then what I just did wouldn't seem as bad to people!"
I wrote something about what my mother was wearing when she died, and I deleted it because I think it’s too dark to leave here. But I’m now crying on a plane and it’s the kind of cry that needs to happen, even if I wish it wasn’t happening on a plane. So thank you, Abby 🤍
Thank you, Abby. I’ve written about it, just not “publicly” yet. It destroys me a little. But I will, absolutely. I feel like I failed her at the hospital, after she died. Before she died, I came through in every way, but I wasn’t prepared for after. It was awful. Thank you for your kindness, you have no idea what it means to me.
Thanks, Abby, for the side door. Here’s mine. Our public speaking trainer once said, you’ll never go wrong in blue. So, I wore a formal, royal blue business dress to an out-of-town conference, where I was the main speaker. Arriving five minutes late due to a sudden downpour, I entered the fully-packed hall, and almost died! The stage backdrop was entirely in royal blue!
Beautiful, Abby. I've done this one, thanks to owning Two Pages and Writing about Memoir. Mine was choosing to wear denim overalls and bright orange Converse sneakers at 16 to go to family for Thanksgiving. My mother freaked out, screaming that I had to change, and then my father freaked out, and took one of my mother's antique blue glass candleholders, and smashed it to shards on her beautiful walnut dining room table, leaving a gash that still remains. He was over her harassing me for being myself. I'd never, ever seen him do anything vaguely violent in my life. The little kid inside of me was cheering him on. And truly, the only one who thought I was inappropriately dressed for the occasion was my mom. I went to Thanksgiving dressed in my favorite clothing. When we got to my cousin's house, the only one who was inappropriately dressed was my mother, father, and brother. Everyone else was wearing jeans. Huzzah! xo
I love that rebellious wardrobe, orange and blue denim always look great together.
Great tale.
Thanks, Therese! That memory is firmly embedded in my brain. xo
My brother-in-law was getting married in a small town and we were staying in a motel near the wedding venue. My four year old daughter was a flower girl. She loved to swim and begged to have one last swim at the motel pool before putting on her fancy dress and going to the wedding. I was already dressed and ready to go, but wanted to indulge her so we went to the pool. She slipped into the deep end and started to drown. The lifeguard didn't notice, but I certainly did and jumped in to save her. She was fine, although I was shaken to the core. But with only about 10 minutes to find something else for me to wear to the wedding, I found an odd little store in the town that had one dress that fit me. It was white. I wore white to my brother-in-law's wedding, but all I could think of was my precious daughter going under and flailing and going under again.
My god, terrifying memory.
You had a excellent reason. Not to have jumped in would have ruined your life and marred that day forever after. Your love saved her, far more important then wearing white to a wedding.
I remember that prompt. The side door you opened was a gift to that writer. What a story. Now I must scour my memory files for an inappropriate outfit.
Try mine.
Oh, Abby this is brilliant. That image of the woman pacing the roof in flip flops, having to make such a decision. You gave her her story and also gave it to us. Thank you.
And there would never have been a good outfit to make such a horrendous,life changing decision.
Another version of this - after my mother died I went shopping. Not to get the right thing to wear, but to shop. I sure felt like my behavior was seriously inappropriate.
Nah. my daughter once told me long ago, shopping is hope, mom.
I think she's right. It didn't feel that way at the time. But I get it.
Oh my, I have chapbook worth! Let’s say inappropriately dressed or undressed for the occasion.
Oh my goodness! Undressed, Phyllis?
You had to be there. 😀
A very cool assignment. And the story about the lady . . . sort of haunting. An ordinary concern at an extraordinary moment.
Yes. and thank you.
Thank you, Abby, for the best message of all: Showing up each day. As long as you have something to say and write, I'm inspired to do the same.
Yes, what a heartbreaking experience to experience, but what a gift you provided for her to find that side to put such heartbreak into words. My mind is alive with ideas now, thank you for sharing.
Oh, my goodness ... I don't know what to say right now.
what a powerful story and wonderful prompt -- thank you :)
Thank you!
I remember being a kid (maybe 6 or 7 years old) at a large family gathering, and wearing a fancy dress (pink and frilly, maybe, but I don't remember the details). I didn't wear fancy dresses often, so I felt a little uncomfortable and like I was drawing too much attention to myself.
And then I did something bad: I grabbed a chair away from my sister, and she fell to the ground, and all the adults stopped what they were doing and looked at me. And I remember thinking, for those longest few seconds that I was the centre of everyone's attention: "If only I weren't wearing this stupid dress, then what I just did wouldn't seem as bad to people!"
I wrote something about what my mother was wearing when she died, and I deleted it because I think it’s too dark to leave here. But I’m now crying on a plane and it’s the kind of cry that needs to happen, even if I wish it wasn’t happening on a plane. So thank you, Abby 🤍
I'm so sorry. I wish you would write about that.
Thank you, Abby. I’ve written about it, just not “publicly” yet. It destroys me a little. But I will, absolutely. I feel like I failed her at the hospital, after she died. Before she died, I came through in every way, but I wasn’t prepared for after. It was awful. Thank you for your kindness, you have no idea what it means to me.
I hope they are cleansing tears, the kind you can leave behind you in the jet stream of wherever you boarded the plane.
A weeping that soothes, consoles, and allows healing to come in.
Thanks, Abby, for the side door. Here’s mine. Our public speaking trainer once said, you’ll never go wrong in blue. So, I wore a formal, royal blue business dress to an out-of-town conference, where I was the main speaker. Arriving five minutes late due to a sudden downpour, I entered the fully-packed hall, and almost died! The stage backdrop was entirely in royal blue!
Good grief. You must have been invisiible!
whoa! a masterpiece-- gave me chills. Did not see that coming! A masterful lesson. I'm gonna try it. but what should I wear while I'm writing!!
I don't know, but let me know when you put it on.
What to wear when we're writing?
Love this Abby
love you, Abby.
Thank you, Abby!