Beautiful Day

THE NOTEBOOK, PAGE 3

The Dress

You should feel no compunction or sense of duty to wear my dress; however, it is available to you. I fear you might find it too “traditional”-as I watch you now, you are twenty-one years old and you primarily wear clothes you sew yourself or that you get at Goodwill. I’m guessing it’s a phase. It was for me, too. I wore the same prairie skirt for five weeks in the spring of 1970.

The dress will fit you, or nearly. You seem to be losing weight. I’d like to believe that’s because you’re away from the dining hall food of college, but I fear it’s because of me.

My mother and I bought the dress at Priscilla of Boston, which was where every bride on the East Coast wanted to buy her dress back in those days, much like Vera Wang now. My mother and I argued because I wanted a dress with a straight skirt, whereas my mother thought I should choose something fuller. You don’t want everyone staring at your behind, she said. But guess what? I did!

The dress has been professionally cleaned and is hanging up in the far left of my cedar closet. If you need to get it altered, go to Monica at Pinpoint Bridal on West 84th Street.

I have to stop writing. I am growing too sad thinking about how captivating you will look in that dress, and how seeing you wear it might undo your father.

I am crying now, but they are tears of love.