Three White Dresses

The last time I remember Poonch wearing a white dress she was only 4 months old. It was at her baptism. The dress was beautiful, but it barely fit her, since she was supposed to have been baptized 2 months earlier than she was. But September 11 happened, and because we had family traveling from different places, we postponed her baptism. Once we finally felt safe enough to reschedule, Poonch had grown. I remember her godmother zipping her dress up, all of us crossing our fingers, hoping that darn zipper would go all the way up to her chunky baby neck. It did. 

The next time I saw Poonch in a white dress was this afternoon. Just me and her, in a department store dressing room, trying on Communion dresses. Though she has grown physically, mentally, and emotionally, she more or less remains that same person she was in that other white dress. Still spunky. Still introspective. Still beautiful. Still smart. Still ours. 

Poonch, being the girly-girl that she is, tried on every dress in the store this afternoon. As I was zipping up each dress, I thought about the next time I would be zipping up a white dress for her to wear in a church. (Or maybe not a church, no pressure from this heathen.) I had to stop that thought, though, because I couldn't even deal with it. The sales lady handed Poonch a veil to try on, and as she placed it on her head, in the mirror I saw Poonch's toothy smile, but 3 faces blended into one...

that baby I kissed so often, 

this girl who is growing into her skin, 

and that woman who will soon emerge. 

I quietly took off the veil and told the sales lady we would buy it later. Just the dress for today, please. 

Luckily, Poonch knew none of what I was thinking. How could she know, when all she could see was the vision in white, whirling and twirling in the 3-way mirror. As it should be.