It was hard to believe what had to happened to our family, the degeneration of our daughter.
Every waking hour, I carried the burden of truth, my daughter was an alcoholic; my daughter put herself at risk. Every night I dreamt of her as a child, before alcohol claimed her. Many nights I was between sleep and being awake. Anxiety bubbled in me, would not let me rest. I would get out of bed, drink cups of tea, stare at the television set. I used to be a carefree person, shared happiness in my life. My daughter had changed my being, swapped me for an older version, before my time.
I could not understand why this had happened, I must be doomed, there must be bad luck in the house, in my home. I was tired; I was irrational.
I honed in on Bella’s wedding dress, neatly folded in a box, stashed away, just in case, ever it was needed.
I had made this dress, the design was Vera Wang, it was a fitted dress, with a round neck, and long slim skirt with a slit in the back. The material was pure crushed silk, with silver embroidery swirled over the whole fabric. To the waist, at the back, a bow of the same fabric clipped on, from that bow, layers and layers of pure silk netting for a trail. It was beautiful, to match the intended bride.
That was the talisman – that – dress. I took it our of the box, screwed it in a ball, and shoved into the bin.
Sat back and waited for good luck to return, bring my daughter back to me.