A Near Miss

There is nothing quite like telling your child that you can’t come to something special they have going on. Last night was no exception. Her disappointment was real and all over her heart-shaped face. Jeff had a meeting last night that could not be missed and Julia had a fashion show that was the pinnacle of her sewing year. She mentioned her sadness a few times as our day played out within the walls of our home reminding Brighton and me that Daddy wanted to watch the video as soon as he got home. In keeping with his thoughtfulness, Jeff made a sneaky trip home to deliver pink roses so we could give them to her in his absence.

While pulling out the last batch of cookies for the reception afterwards, 5:03 in LCD green on my oven put us into a higher gear. We tried on new shoes, found baby pink tights without holes, located last year’s Easter basket, pulled out curlers, zipped, tied, glossed, and snapped a few pictures in the process. Rarely speechless, Brighton sat on the floor on top of his clothes for the occasion and watched the flurry of femininity. (The first of many, I am sure.) When all was “said and sprayed”, he was most fascinated with her hair. “HOW did you DO that?” and “You look so different, Julia. You don’t look like my sister.” When she said she wanted to see herself from “head to toe”, Brighton followed and promptly told her she would have to take her shoes off if she wanted to see her toes. After standing there for a few seconds, she said it again, “I wish Daddy could see me.” I sent my very first picture as a text which seemed to help matters a little. A little.
Once we arrived at the church and found out where Julia was supposed to be, Brighton and I ran out to the car to get the roses. Beside the pink flowers, I found a white envelope that said, “To my girl”, underlined with affection. Of course, he did. We hid the roses and while she was practicing on the stage, I put the note in her seat. Her eyes met the unusual cursive writing with curiosity and then searched for mine to call me over. She needed me to read it. So I began:

“Julia, I am so sorry that I have to miss your fashion show this year. It is one of the things that I love most. I am so proud when they say “Julia Sanders. Parents are Jeff and Krista Sanders” and they begin to describe your dress. I am so proud of you and I love you the whole world. Love, Daddy”

I had to stop to clear my throat after the second sentence…….nose burning after the third sentence……….bigger lump after the………… “Are you having trouble reading Daddy’s handwriting?” “Oh,no. Not at all.” Deep breath. She gently took the note from my hand, stared at the writing with a big grin, carefully put it in the envelope and then into her Easter basket she would carry on stage.

She was the first girl to walk through the twinkling tulle covered arch—ruining any chance of Jeff slipping in late to see her. Her smile seemed genuine as she modeled her spring creation complete with her request of puffy sleeves. I was proud of my little “Miss”. My near “Miss”. As soon as she walked off the stage, Brighton’s head went to my lap. He had seen what he had come to see.

Surprising us both, Jeff made it to the reception out of sheer determination. To her delight, she was able to show her Daddy her hair, her shoes, and her lovely dress. And then Jeff, Daddy, was able to make her night complete by saying, “Julia, you look beautiful!” She had heard what she longed to hear.

A near miss? Yes and no.

To get a little more background on these sweet sewing classes, read about the fascinating Mrs. Betty Cox! Take a look at her granddaughter Tori's post on the "Fashion Show" this year too!