The
Blue Dress
I found this pretty blue and white dress at a small shop in
Cancun. It fit. I liked it a lot. The shopkeeper complimented me in it and I
twirled around from one mirror to another, deciding if I really needed it. Of
course not. I didn’t “need” another dress or any clothes. Like most ladies, I
just like to shop and buy something new.
But this something cost a bit more than I wanted to spend.
Talking myself out of it, especially since the saleslady wouldn’t stop chattering, I hung it back on the rack and left without buying anything. That felt
good.
After looking around in the other shops, I went back to the
beach and rented a horse. Wearing nothing but a yellow bathing suit, I rode
bareback along the shore and after galloping miles away, rode right into the
water for a mutual cool down, horse and rider. The horse couldn’t wait for the
refreshing water and swam far out with me still on his back. Hanging on to his
mane for balance, here I was, in the Gulf of Mexico, happy as I’ve ever been.
We rode back and dipped into the water here and there for cool downs. It was just me and the horse and the ocean. At the stables, the horse
kept nudging me. The groom said it was unusual, because he didn’t want his
oats. He still wanted to play.
I still wanted the blue dress.
But I put it out of my mind and went on to dinner, dancing,
a night’s barbecue by the beach, some swimming, the usual celebrations at the
resort.
Exhausted, I fell asleep as soon as head hit pillow.
Did I dream about the fun? The horse? The gorgeous azure
waters of Cancun? NO. I dreamed about the dang dress.
When I woke up the next morning, keenly aware that I had
dreamed about that stupid dress, I decided it would be OK to go and get it. If
it preoccupied my thoughts that much, maybe it was meant to be mine. So what
that it was too expensive. So what that I didn’t need it. I wanted it. And it did
look nice on me. Better to get it and regret it than to pass it and want it
later, I justified.
After breakfast, I went to town again and back to the same
shop. My dress was gone. Someone had bought it. The end. I looked and looked,
hoping somebody had put it back on a different rack, but no. It was gone and
the saleslady was a different person, so I couldn’t even ask about it.
Sad that I had passed it by, I looked around at some of the
other choices, but I knew I didn’t want anything else.
The bell on the door chimed as another woman came in. I
overheard her tell the clerk she wanted to return a dress. From behind a row of
clothes, I watched from afar as she pulled my
dress from out of her bag and handed it to the clerk. My heart thumped
hard. How is this even possible?
I couldn’t believe my eyes. Yes, it’s only a silly dress.
But still…. What kind of timing did I have to have to be there at that very
moment; to happen into the store at exactly the same time a lady comes to
return what I wanted to buy? It’s a different day. It’s a tiny wish I carried
along a beach on the back of a horse and into the night within a dream. Small
miracles become bigger wonders when they personalize so smoothly, and fall into
place after a dream. Five minutes before or after and I would have missed this
moment. These sorts of events do not escape my notice. Synchronicity. It’s
weird and wonderful, simultaneously, and I never miss an opportunity to be
grateful for the unexpected or the unexplainable, no matter how insignificant
it may seem.
I hid behind the racks, not wanting to interrupt the
transaction. The clerk asked if she’d worn it and the lady said, “No, I bought
it yesterday and decided it’s not really for me.” Indeed! I thought. It’s not for you, because it’s supposed to
be mine.
After the customer left, I popped up unremembered from the
rear of the store. The dress was hanging alone on a rack behind the counter,
just waiting for me.
Without any undue fuss or emotion, I walked up to the
register, asked for the dress and bought it. All the lady said to me was, “Wow,
that’s funny… another lady just returned this.” I nodded without a word,
keeping my story to myself.
I still love that little dress. I’m glad I got it. And I
love the story too.
Just Another Lori Story
