“If no baby ever wore it, that would not make your life smaller.”
“You were never waiting to become enough.”
“But if one did come, I wanted that child to have something made before she was even known.”
I couldn’t read for a moment.
Mark took my hand.
Grandma watched me.
Her eyes were wet.
I continued.
“I finished most of it when I was 94.”
“Then my hands got worse.”
“I left the sleeve because I thought perhaps one day you could finish something I started.”
I looked at the unfinished dress.
“I’m terrible at sewing.”
Grandma smiled.
“I know.”
Everybody laughed.
That helped.
I went back to the letter.
“The other dresses belong to your mother and to you.”
“Three little girls.”
“Three different times.”
“If I am lucky enough to meet yours, put her in whichever one fits.”
“Do not save them so carefully that nobody gets to live in them.”
