The Bouquet I Handed My Mother

Her Side of It

“I went down to Louisville to look at a mother-of-the-bride dress,” Mama said.

“Something navy. Something decent. And there was that white one on the rack, and I tried it on, just to see. Just to see what it would have been like.”

She pressed her hand against her mouth for a second.

“And I looked in that mirror, Brynn, and I was twenty-one again. I was standing in that courthouse hallway in Dot’s sundress, watching that other girl. And I wanted it so bad I couldn’t breathe.”

“So you bought it,” I said gently.

“So I bought it. With your money. And I told myself I’d just keep it in the closet. I’d just have it. I wouldn’t wear it anywhere. And I’d find some way to make the money back up to you before the wedding.”

She shook her head.

“And then that morning, I got dressed in the navy one. I did. I got all the way to the car in it. And I went back in the house and took it off and put on the white one. I don’t know why. I stood in my bedroom and I thought, just one time. Just one time, I want to walk into a room in white.”

“Did Daddy see you leave?”

“He’d already gone over to the barn to set up chairs,” Mama said. “He didn’t see me until he saw me. You saw his face.”

“I saw his face.”

“He didn’t say one word to me about it,” Mama said. “Not one hard word. Not that night, not since. I kept waiting for it. He just said, the morning after, he said, ‘Lorna, you ought to go see Brynn when they get home.’ That was all.”