The text from my mother showed up as I was reviewing my son’s college expenses: “Just bought the most beautiful dress!” Attached was a photo of her beaming in a designer gown – and a receipt for $1,800. My stomach dropped. That money could have covered a semester’s worth of textbooks with change to spare.
All my life, Mom had been the embodiment of selflessness. She’d drive across town to save fifty cents on milk, yet here she was dropping nearly two grand on a dress she’d wear maybe twice. When I gently brought up my concerns, her response changed everything.
“Sweetheart,” she said, touching my hand, “I’ve spent my whole life being practical. This time, I wanted to feel beautiful.” In that moment, I saw not just my mother, but the young woman she’d once been – the one who’d buried her own dreams to raise five children. That expensive dress wasn’t just clothing; it was her finally giving herself permission to exist beyond being someone’s mother or grandmother.
