A Mountain of Taffeta

Doing my Pippa duties; I can't
show you the whole thing; what
if JB were to see?!

Yesterday was the kind of day that little girls dream about for their entire lives. One where full moments in time pause and choke you with emotion. I helped her dive headfirst into a mountain of taffeta and slip into the first white gown she's ever adorned. And as I stood behind her in the fitting room, lacing up her corset, I had to fight the tears.

In one instant, I was reminded of the years that have gone by, back to the days when we would push each other on the swingset, make bassinets for our troll dolls and flip our bikes over to pretend like they were ice cream machines. When we would sleep in the same bed when we were scared, and even the years when we weren't so close. How could she be five and twenty-five all in the same moment? But somehow she was.

She exited the dressing room, and the memories melted away as I watched her step up onto the platform with the trail of white fabric piled up around her feet. The smile on her face was the same one I'd seen every Christmas morning for the last 25 years. And as she twirled, I realized what I had long known but hadn't wanted to admit: my baby sister isn't so little anymore.

Me, Mom & bride-to-be, center