The Christmas Corsage

After Mark died, I was going through the boxes that had been stored in our closets. I was trying to sort through my emotions and the years of accumulated things. There were boxes of books, old clothing, and souvenirs stored over the many years. Near the bottom of a box I found a much smaller carton that held a souvenir. It was dried and wrapped in thin white tissue paper.

Immediately, my mind went back to 1949. I was a senior in high school and had accepted a date with Mark. Earlier, Mark volunteered to join the Marines. After the war, he was discharged and returned home. He was considered a man even though he was only nineteen. He was often somber and held the memories of the last two years tightly inside.

Our date was for the high school Christmas dance. I needed to find a fancy dress to wear, but it wasn’t going to be easy for me. Money was still tight and formal wear wasn’t readily available. Mom decided to take me shopping to see what we could find.

We searched through the several stores in town. Either the prices were so very high or the designs didn’t fit my body or the color of the material didn’t go well with my hair and skin color. We were almost out of options when my mom said, “Let’s try one last store before we give up and go home.”

It just happened to be a store which sold recycled clothing. I’d walked past that store many times, but I’d never gone inside. It seemed to me that the shop had been there forever. Pushing open the wooden door with glass inserts, we were greeted by the soft tinkling of brass bells hanging on a thick cord from the door handle.

Across the narrow sales floor I saw a mannequin wearing a dark emerald green gown with a full, flowing skirt. I somehow knew that it would fit. I nodded to my mom. She smiled.

The tall, gray haired sales lady came from behind a sales counter and asked, “May I help you?”

Mom said, “Yes. We’d like to look at that green gown.”

“It is a lovely satin gown.” The sales clerk replied as she removed it and handed it to me. She pointed out the dressing room near the back of the store.

I quickly slipped out of my clothing and carefully climbed inside of the gown. I loved the feeling of the smooth silkiness in the material as I slid my hands over the skirt. I stepped out of the dressing room for my mom to see the dress.

I heard my mom gasp. “Honey, that gown looks like it was made for you” as she eased the zipper up on the dress.

The sales woman said. “Come here.” Reaching beneath the sales counter, she pulled out something shiny. She slipped the narrow rhinestone covered belt around my waist, cinching the dress tighter. It looked beautiful.

The clerk said, “I have one more thing. It’s been around the shop for awhile and I’ll make it a great deal for you. You will look stunning.” She disappeared into the back room returning with a short garment bag. She unzipped the bag and withdrew something white. It was a white fur stole. Draped around my shoulders, it completed the outfit.

Mark had bought the corsage of white carnations and holly. He pinned it on me just before we went to the dance nearly sixty-three years ago. Although the carnations had withered, my memories of Mark had not.