Last time I went home to visit my family, my mom took me to the most amazing vintage thrift store I have ever been in. There were all kinds of crazy outfits, memorabilia, accessories, and junk from the 50s, the 70s, and beyond/around. Don’t know why I was so enamored, but I could have spent hours and still not seen it all. I even told my mom that if she had introduced me to this mecca of awesomeness earlier, I would have visited more often. (In hindsight, not the right thing to say to one’s loving mother, but if you haven’t been poppin’ tags in Florida, you don’t know what you’re missing.)

I fell in love with a circa mid-1960s sailor dress — Mom said she wore a similar dress around that time. And when I say in love, I mean truly, madly, deeply.

I was prepared to pay the $30 (despite the lack of $30 in my bank account) until I tried to zip it up. My heart sank. Broken! I modeled for my mother anyway, and myself, for probably close to 10 minutes. It was so cute, hipster, authentic, I like the stripes and the colors and the pockets. I tried to ignore the busted zipper, but dear mommy wouldn’t let me get it. “It’s not worth it,” she said. But I could get the zipper replaced! I could get velcro! Or something!?

Broken things aren’t worth it in our lives. Particularly with love, but it could be an ill-fitting job, a toxic friendship, any specific unhealthy situation that has it’s deceptively heavenly moments. How many times do we tell ourselves we can fix it/him/her, change it/him/her, or make it all work somehow? If we have the blessing of an option (and not all people have that luxury), why do we choose the not best option? We’ll spend $30 on a dress we think we love and have to have and can make work. We ignore the blatant imperfections because we’re blinded by desire and only picture an idea– the potential– which is not reality. For better or worse, we live in reality, though. We must trust that greater things are in store for us… if we can just put down the dress with the zipper that doesn’t do what it promises us it will do. (Is it me, or does it sound like I’m referencing my last heartbreak here? Right, just checking.)

I left the dress at that divine shop of oddities and treasures. I thought about it all day. I thought about it my whole trip. I clearly still think about it while scanning my albums on social media. But (go figure) momma was right. It wasn’t worth it. And I’m trying to take that lesson with me into the deeper contexts of love and life, and am slowly (s l o w l y) catching on to what it means to delay gratification of accepting an imperfect X so that the universe/God can provide the perfect Y at the perfect moment. Though since we as humans are incapable of perfection, it never appears perfect to us. But we must keep trusting, hoping, and maybe taking chances to keep learning the lesson.

No, the universe has yet to bestow upon me a fully functional 1960s sailor dress to wear to some non-existent but certainly upcoming summertime soiree, but the next trip down to the land of sunshine that I take to “visit my folks,” you’ll know where to find me. Until then, what broken zippers can you put back on the rack? ~CkB