my mother, Jocasta, and voicemail

my mother left a message for my yin this morning, and among the various sentimentalities and salutations, she offered to give my yin her wedding dress. hearing this statement, i was struck by two sensations:

the first was a deeply warm emotion, fueled by the knowledge that my mother has kept the dress preserved for more than three decades, safeguarding it in an airtight box through fifteen years of marriage, two moves cross country, and twenty years of divorce.

the second was the unmistakable shock of trembling Freudian horror.

my mother and my yin, in front of a bagel shop in Boone
(yes, Boone)