Karma and Penance: part 2

I was a teenager when it happened--most likely in that awful year for girls that is fifteen: When you still know everything, before you have truly contemplated flying the nest and therefore still believe that you are the center of the universe. I must have been that age.  That is my only excuse.

It was Christmas. And my mom was busy with a sewing project. She was visibly excited, and so was I. She didn't know, but I had taken a quick peek at the material, just to get an idea of what she was up to, and I loved it.  Remember, please, that it was the 80's when I say that it was pink lame. That distinctive shimmery fabric that defined the decade. Now, gold lame had been done: It dripped from the solid gold dancers and from half of the prom dresses sold in 1985, but pink lame with a silver shimmer? This was unusual, and beautiful, and soon to be mine!  Christmas could not come soon enough, at least for me.  Mom, on the other hand, probably needed some extra time.

After all, she had Christmas goodies to make, decorations to hang, cards to address, dinners to prepare, parties to throw, and now, aditionally, a dress to finish.  My glorious, pink lame, party dress. All of that other stuff didn't even enter into my stream of conscious. That stuff just--happened. It always had, magically, and it always would, as far as I was concerned. What caught my attention as I came and went as was my modus operandi in those days, flitting from one event to another, was the drone of the sewing machine.  No, Christmas could not come soon enough.

Then, suddenly, it was here, and I unwrapped the box that could only hold the dress of my dreams. I had at least twelve different plans for that dress.  Giddy with excitement, I folded back the tissue paper and discovered...

(to be continued)