My mom is from the western part of North Carolina; west of Asheville where rolling farms transform into the Smoky Mountains. It’s beautiful country.
Most of Mom’s immediate family has stayed in the area. Sophomore year of High School, my mom, sister, and I went down to Haywood County just after Christmas to visit Grandmom and my mom’s oldest sister, Aunt Mary. At the time, they were living in the house where the family had moved when my mom was young.
(Incidentally, I’ve never met anyone else who calls their grandmother “Grandmom” – it’s always “Grandma” or “Grandmother” if they use a name with “grand” in the title.)
One evening, we were sitting around the living room after dinner, chatting. Suddenly, Grandmom turned and looked at me.
“I bet my prom dress would fit you,” she said. Aunt Mary turned to assess my fifteen year-old frame and agreed.
Without another word, a red crepe dress was pulled out of storage. My grandmother had worn it to her Senior prom in 1942. Due to wartime rationing and family budgets, my great-grandmother had made the dress herself.
It fit like she had made it for me.
It’s floor-length with gathered cap sleeves and ruching along the sides. Down the spine are tiny, fabric-covered buttons from the neck to the end of the slight train. It is a masterpiece.
We looked at pictures of my grandmother in the dress more than fifty years earlier. She’s standing in front of a bus – gas rationing ruled out any other method of transportation for prom attendees.
Grandmom had four daughters, but none shared her body type and the dress went unworn. She and I, however, were of the same mold.
My grandmother passed away in 2010. That was a difficult year for my family; we lost Aunt Mary, too. Pictures like the one above hold sweet memories. I can’t describe how special I felt that night – my grandmother had looked at me and seen a little of herself! That dress is a special, precious connection.