I stopped myself from responding to a young friend’s Facebook post today. In it, she was pictured, incredibly shapely and beautiful, wearing a horizontally striped dress. The dress reminded me of one I had when I was also wearing such things, and looking quite fabulous in them.
I even started looking for a picture – one I know is lurking somewhere. It shows me, standing in front of a very old car. It was taken sometime around 1978. Even typing that date makes the mental video tape start to roll. It plays back 1st weddings and failed marriages, cross-country moves and babies who are now men – men now looking for women like my friend, wearing horizontally striped dresses; and looking devastatingly gorgeous in them.
I stopped myself from commenting. I didn’t want to take her moment and make it sound like it was all about me. It wasn’t. It was about the meaning – the richness of those memories. The memories I hope she will have, wearing her dresses like mine. The memories that would have stayed tucked away had my friend not taken a picture and started a conversation that we will never have; a conversation on life’s video that never ends.
Here’s to the richness of meaning created by young shapely women, looking fabulous, wearing horizontally striped dresses.