Pexels

The Italian Dress

It seemed to have a memory

I had all but forgotten about the dress. I bought it in Italy last year in a little shop in Sorrento. I am wearing it in many photos of me from the trip.

A week into August, and I found it nearly hidden in between the slew of dresses in my closet. I realized I haven’t worn it once all summer. After I put it on for the first time this season, funny things started happening.

It reminded me of the pretend love affair I’d had with the handsome Italian tour guide. I remembered the farewell dinner for the tour when I stood up to dance with him while all the widows and divorcees on the tour looked on with envy. They were even more free to get up and do so as none of them were disabled, but I was the only one who limped over to dance with him. He hugged me tight as he had been keeping a close eye on me throughout the tour, making sure I was able to access what I needed safely.

I was wearing the dress this morning when my boyfriend asked me why there was a photo of the Italian tour guide on the “wall of death” in my kitchen where I put prayer cards from funerals. I was showing him the latest one that had a Grateful Dead theme for a friend’s young brother whose funeral I attended on Sunday.

I corrected him and explained it wasn’t the tour guide at all, but another very…