Scribo Scribere

The store is a sea of dresses.

Red, green, blue, black, juniper, seafoam, taupe;

long, short, plus size, petite, plain, sequined,

with adorned bodices, with plush skirts

reaching out, voluminous, being tried on by eager women:

white, for weddings, or every color you can imagine

for a dinner, or a party on New Year’s.

I follow my sister into the bridal section.

For a while we wander around, my sister and I.

She’s looking for a dress that’s short,

not too flashy, clean-lined,

that can be trimmed at the bottom,

with sleeves, ideally – the wedding’s in winter.

Other eager brides are trying on dresses:

the idea, of course, being to get the right one.

Just the right one.

If you cannot get just the perfect dress,

you can never have the perfect wedding,

and, without that, how can you have the perfect marriage?

I don’t know.

Is there just one perfect dress for you,

and, also, just one perfect partner?

Or, is perfection what we create for ourselves,

streaming through, finding the joy in every moment?

Is it?