A WEDDING DRESS.
Crocheted entirely by hand, the soft ivory yarn was shaped into the most delicate patterns I’d ever seen.
The skirt flowed like real fabric, with layers that caught the light differently at every angle.
The sleeves were semi-sheer, elegant, and impossibly beautiful.
“You made this?” I whispered, touching it like it might disappear.
Lucas nodded eagerly.
“I learned new stitches from YouTube. I watched, like, hundreds of videos.
I used all my allowance for the yarn, the good kind that doesn’t scratch. Used your old dress for the measurements.”
He took a breath.
“I wanted you to have something special, Mom. Something nobody else in the world has.”
I pulled him into my arms and sobbed into his hair.
“Do you like it?” he asked, muffled against my shoulder.
“Like it?
Baby, I love it. I’m wearing this on my wedding day. No question.
And I’m so proud of you I could burst.”
Michael found us like that, both crying and grinning.
When I showed him the dress, he had to sit down.
“Buddy,” he said, voice heavy, “this is incredible. Your mom’s going to be the most beautiful bride anyone’s ever seen.”
Lucas beamed.
“You think so?”
“I know so.”
***Continue reading…
