My name is Dona Teresa. I am 58 years old, and I sell vegetables at a small neighborhood market in Campinas, in the interior of the state of São Paulo.
For almost my whole life, I have been a single mother.
My son Marcos is everything I have in this world.
I earned my living selling tomatoes, onions, peppers, and cilantro – everything I could buy early in the morning at the wholesale market.
For years I got up at three in the morning, carrying heavy boxes, facing the cold and the rain…
All so that he could study.
And he succeeded.
Marcos finished his studies and found a good job.
Until one day he came home with a smile I will never forget.
— Mom… I'd like to introduce you to someone.
That is how I met Laura.
She was everything I was not:
elegant, cultured, from a wealthy family.
Her father was a businessman, and her mother a doctor.
At first, I was afraid I would be a source of embarrassment to her.
But Laura always treated me with respect.
She always addressed me as “Dona Teresa” with a sweet smile.
Three months before the wedding, Marcos came to visit me at the market.
“Mom, we have a date now!” he exclaimed with excitement.
— We're getting married in September!
I felt an enormous joy…
but also a deeply rooted anxiety.
Because I knew something no one else knew.
I had nothing suitable to wear to my own son's wedding.
For a few days, I tried to ignore the thought.
I looked at the dresses in the shop windows as I walked through the city center…
but I knew I could not afford them.
All my money went to rent, food…
And sometimes I even helped Marcos during his studies.
Then I remembered something I had kept for years.
A dress.
A green dress.
It was simple.
The fabric was a little worn, and the embroidery on the bodice was delicate and handmade.
I had worn that dress at the most important moments of my life.
I wore it the day Marcos was born.
I wore it, too, at his graduation ceremony.
Every time I looked at that dress, I remembered all the hardships we had been through together.
But now…
It was old.
Very old.
I tried to borrow a dress from a neighbor,
but none of them suited me.
Besides, I felt as though I were playing a part.
So in the end I made a decision.
I would go to the wedding in my green dress.
Not out of pride.
But because it was the only thing that truly belonged to me.
The wedding day arrived.
The church was filled with white flowers, soft music, and elegant people.
The guests were dressed in expensive suits and glittering dresses.
The moment I crossed the threshold, I felt their eyes on me.
Some smiled with curiosity.
Others whispered.
“I think that's the groom's mother…”
“What a shame… she should have dressed better…”
I felt my face turn crimson with shame.
Slowly, I made my way toward a pew at the back of the church, trying not to draw attention to myself.
I wanted only one thing:
to see my son's wedding, and then to leave in silence.
But then something happened that I never could have imagined.
The music fell silent for a moment.
The church doors opened.
And Laura appeared.
She wore a wonderful white gown and looked as though she had stepped out of a fairy tale.
Everyone rose to watch her walk toward the altar.
But halfway down the aisle…
She stopped.
Her eyes were fixed on me.
