“Yes.”
She sighed.
“Well, maybe some part of him was trying to find his favorite place.”
I looked out the window.
Perhaps she was right.
—
In early September, Sophie took me dress shopping.
I insisted I didn’t need anything elaborate.
I was fifty-one.
I’d already worn a wedding dress once.
But Sophie refused to let me settle for something ordinary.
“Mom, Dad wants this day to be special.”
“He thinks khakis count as formal clothing.”
“Exactly. That’s why he’s letting me choose.”
At the third boutique, we found it.
A pale-blue dress.
Simple.
Soft.
With short sleeves and a skirt that moved gently when I walked.
It reminded me of the lake on a clear morning.
When I stepped out of the dressing room, Sophie covered her mouth.
“Oh, Mom.”
I looked in the mirror.
I didn’t look twenty-five.
I looked like a woman who’d lived.
