Eventually, my uncle found Grandma’s old sewing machine in a closet.
Grandma couldn’t use it anymore, but she could still criticize.
I brought the dress to her.
She inspected my first attempt at the sleeve.
“This seam is terrible.”
“I know.”
“Take it out.”
“It took me two hours.”
“Then you’ll be faster the second time.”
I glared at her.
She smiled.
For six weeks, I worked on that dress.
Not every day.
Usually after Lily went to sleep.
Sometimes for 20 minutes.
Sometimes until midnight.
I redid the sleeve twice.
The collar three times.
One night I got so frustrated that I nearly put the whole thing back into the box and decided “unfinished” was sentimental.
Then I heard Grandma in my head.
Finish it.
So I did.
When Lily was 13 months old, we took her to Grandma’s house.
I dressed her in the cream dress.
It fit
