The Dress

     One turning point of my life was when my sister moved out. The age difference between us is twelve years, and when I was graduating first grade, she was graduating high school. She didn't take much with her to college. In fact, her closet was full of old memories she didn't want to bring. My mother, of course, did nothing with them either. She never throws out anything. I never understood how every single thing could possibly have a sentimental value. I guess then, I really didn't understand what a sentiment was at all.

     I was never really into playing dress-up. But when I had the chance, I loved to go through my sister's old clothes. I would go through hanger after hanger of letterman jackets, homecoming dresses, cheerleading uniforms, everything. They were all still in her closet. But my favorite thing was the long, blue, beaded, and beautiful prom dress. I couldn't even lift it by myself because there were so many heavy beads. But still, it was dazzling. I couldn't wait until my prom, when I could get a dress like that of my own. I eventually forgot about it. Then my time did come. I had a dazzling dress of my own. I took hers out one day and compared the two. They were shockingly similar. Her dress had affected my decision without me realizing it. I guess my ideal prom dress really was hers, but a bit more modern. 

     Now both of our dresses live in that closet together. One old, one new. Each with a charm and elegance of their own. Both beautiful. I still go back and look in that closet sometimes, searching for a random something. And I always see our prom dresses hanging side by side. It always reminds me how much one item of clothing can bring back a flood of memories.