first • c.h

#3 First Dress

It was Saturday. I had nothing to do. I was bored. Dad isn't at home and this is how my usual Saturday is like. It is filled with boring nothingness and I had no idea what on Earth I should do now.

Draw?

Done.

Read a book?

Done.

Homework?

Done.

Scream through the pillow while kicking the bed?

Done that too.

I had nothing left to do and I was bored as hell. I paced all over my room and finally came out to check whether there was anyone in my dad's room to find something to do, even though I knew there weren't anything that could be done there.

I turned the knob of the door. The room felt weird, like it was empty though there were furnitures all over it. This was once a place for my mum and dad. Now, it is just for my dad. I guessed that's why it felt unusually empty. My heart skipped a beat as I stepped into the room.

I opened the curtains and light instantly shot through room, hitting only some parts of it. I walked towards the huge wooden wardrobe, which was my mum's. Should I open? All I could think about was how my mum used to be in this room. Either reading her favorite magazines or picking out clothes. I miss her so much even though she left when I was young. I could still remember her face and everything she said to me.

I opened it slowly, deciding that I had nothing to do anyway so why not?, and there were boxes covered with dusts that were left untouched since years ago. My heart beat became faster and sweat was running from my forehead to the my neck as the temperature rises in the room.

"Eliza?" A voice came from downstairs, which again was my dad's.

I quickly took the most interesting looking box; a box with something written on the front, in my arms and ran out the room, closing the door behind me. I walked swiftly to my own room.

"I'm up here doing my homework! There's some leftover pizza in the kitchen. Bye!" I lied, before closing the door.

I placed the box on my table and sighed, wiping off dust with my bare hands. There were black marks on my palm but I couldn't care less. What was more important was the box standing in front of me.

Written in black, bold sharpie were the words: "Was Tina's"

Tina was my mother. I miss her so much, my eyes becoming a little wet. My hands trembled as I gently reach for the cover of the box, hoping that the contents were memories of my dear mother.

I opened the lid slowly and peered into the box. There were little things like, an alarm clock, a watch and some other stuff that weren't that much important. But other than that, there was another slightly smaller box. I took it out from it's shell that it has been hiding for years and placed it on the other side of the table.

The box was much more shorter and slim. It was pink and there were flowers printed on it and a beautiful but slightly dusty bow glued on the lid. I gently took out the lid and inside was a maroon fabric almost covering the whole insides of the pink box. I touched the fabric and traced my fingers on the surface of it.

In contrast, the fabric was clean and velvety unlike the dusty bow. I slip it out of its box and there it was; a dress that reached just above the knees with a split on the bottom right of the dress. It has long sleeves that stops below the elbow and was plain maroon but it was velvet and beautiful.

I took off my current clothes and slipped into the dress. I turned around and smiled, nostalgia running through my mind. This was my late-mum's. I was wearing my mum's dress.