Ordinarily I would have no idea what I wore to church on any given Sunday; I certainly wouldn't recall what I wore to church seven years ago. But a certain someone does remember. All of my coursework had been handed in and I had finished University for the summer. I arrived home from Loughborough on Friday, went to church on Sunday, and on Monday I boarded a plane to the U.S. to visit friends. Apparently on the Sunday in question I was wearing this dress along with my cowboy boots:
I'm not sure why I remember this, but before going home for the Sunday dinner and Yorkshire Puddings I'd been looking forward to all semester long, I shook Elder Buechele's hand (I imagine I shook his companions hand too) and told him it had been nice to meet him. I wished him luck with the rest of his mission, since I was leaving for 8 weeks and he was bound to have moved to a different area before my return. He was very cordial, telling me that it had been nice to meet me too, though I didn't give that much thought and my dress and I left.
Fast forward six months and I'm attending church in Arizona, where Ryan and I are staying with his Aunt and Uncle. What dress did I have with me, but the turquoise one from summer. I was surprised when Ryan said that he remembered it. I was stunned when I learned that after seeing me walk up to church in said dress and cowboy boots he'd made his mind up that he'd marry me one day. Nice to meet me indeed.
The dress became an inside joke between the two of us and though I'd loved it when I'd seen it hanging up in Marks and Spencers I didn't know then just how attached I'd become to the thing. It's been through a lot with us. It's moved house three times. It was tumble dried by mistake so it's about an inch shorter now then when I originally wore it. The hook at the top of the zip has fallen off somewhere and the zip itself is stiff and hard to budge after seven years of wear. Still I find that I can't leave it on the hanger for long.
I wore the dress to church on Mothers Day. Charlotte was particularly feisty that Sunday. I spent sacrament meeting trying to corral her and keep her busy enough to stay quiet. In the end I wound up chasing her around the corridor, scooping her up just in time to stop her from bowling over the other babies. Of course, the picking her up led to wriggling, which led to throwing herself around as I hung on for dear life. It was during on of these struggles that I heard a snap.
One of the straps snapped clean in half. It didn't even break off at the seam, it somehow just broke into two pieces. I supposed that's what happens to cotton after years and years and accidental tumble drying incidents. I think it's officially time to say that I've worn out the dress, though I can't bring myself to chuck it away. I guess it will just go back on the hanger forevermore and make me smile when I see it.
Now I just have to figure out what to wear with my cowboy boots now...
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