text: My trip with my sister and my daughter to Manhattan wedding gown(,) shop, cannot be understood without further focusing on Marina, my 14-year-old daughter Ive asked to try on dresses. 
  
  This was the girl I took to Kleinfeld, the fancy store featured on the television program Say Yes to the Dress. As the trip approached, I asked Marina if she was excited. Sure, Mom. shed say, shrugging. Marina was more excited about getting a tattoo on her ankle to represent my fight with ALS than trying on $ 10,000 wedding gowns. 
  
  My sister, Stephanie, had arranged for a car with a wheelchair lift to drive us from the hotel to Kleinfeld. The car driver wheeled me in. 
  
  At Kleinfeld with flower arrangements ten feet high, I felt like rolling into a dream. "Wow!" I said. I was wearing a new black outfit. Marina wore jean shorts, a sleeveless shirt, and sneakers. _ . The kind Kleinfeld ladies pointed out rooms like tour guides, naming the designers one by one on display: Alita Grham, Pnina Tornai... With Marina walking beside me, Stephanie pushed my chair up and down rows and rows of dresses that made Princess Diana's dress look modest. 
  
  Marina didn't say a word. We turned a corner into the storage room, where hundreds of dresses hung in plastic protector sleeves. Marina and I were overwhelmed. 
  
  "Want to try one on ?" I said, touching Marina's hand. 
  
  "OK," Marina said in her sharp, unsure voice. 
  
  "Tell them the style you'd like." 
  
  Marina stood silent. I felt bad for bringing her, for forcing such an adult experience on a child. 
  
  Marina picked an A-line dress. Or, more precisely, the ladies of Kleinfeld picked it for her. Marina was too shocked to do more than nod. As she took the gown into the dressing room, I tried not to think of my little girl on her wedding day or of her as a baby in my arms. I tried not to think of her with her own baby in her arms one day. 
  
  I tried not to think of Marina right now, embarrassed by her mother's plans, by things she could not and should not yet understand. 
  
  I am leaving money in my will for Marina's wedding dress. Stephanie has promised to bring her back to Kleinfeld to purchase it. 
  
  "No pure white!" I said to Stephanie. "Ivory. Not too much tulle . Think lace." 
  
  "Think royalty when picking a dress," I advised Steph as we waited outside the dressing room. "Think Princes Kate. Elegant. Think long sleeves. They make dresses more formal." 
  
  Marina came out, sleeveless, flared . She looked like a 14-year-old girl in the middle of a giant cupcake. 
  
  "I don't like the loose gown." she said. 
  
  That's my girl! 
  
  "How about trying on one with long sleeves?" I asked her. 
  
  The ladies brought out a dress with long lace sleeves, an Empire collar, a ruched fitted waist, and a long, smooth silk skirt. 
  
  Marina disappeared into the dressing room. When the door opened, she looked a foot taller and a decade older. I could clearly see the beautiful woman she will be one day. I simply stared. 
  
  What do you do when you glimpse a moment you will not live to see? 
  
  I dipped my head. Breathe, I told myself. I looked up. I smiled. Marina smiled back. 
  
  I worked my tongue into position to speak. "I like it," I said. 
  
  In that dress, Marina stood straight, shining brightly, and tall. 
  
  "You are beautiful," I whispered, my tongue barely cooperating. I don't know if she heard me. We took some photos. And moved on. A memory made.