“Do you think we could find my wedding dress?”
My wife of 50 years married thought it would be fun to see if it still fit, if, of course, we could even find it after all these years.
She thought sure the dress had survived the fire when our home was destroyed so long ago but where had it been stored?
Then, in those sad days following the fire as we sorted through the rubble, we found on the charred remains of one of the doors the glass knobs that she was so delighted one time to have found at a garage sale.
Upon rebuilding our home, we had installed those glass door knobs on the French doors that separate living room from family room.
Our granddaughter’s stick figure artwork – “that’s grandma” – seems a fitting touch.
And we found her wedding dress. Smoke-stained and greying, the dress fit. She smiled, sitting on the porch swing, where I presented her a bouquet of flowers for this special occasion as if, in a few minutes, she would be escorted down the aisle.
She’s gone now, lost to cancer just seven months ago.
She would be so happy today though.
Our daughter and her husband just purchased, not far from here, their first home. They wanted dad to see.
On every door, throughout the house, there is a glass door knob.