Sorting
The delicately beaded mother-of-the-bride dress, worn especially for me, stays. The two others, still dangling tags and dashed hopes, stay as well. The hand-sewn rainbow sundress, thin and frayed from years on the beach, and the red and green zippered housecoat worn every Christmas morning, must remain too–though none of these will ever be worn again. My mother’s shoes, sharing…





