lace

I remember a piece of lace that I really liked. It came from an easter dress that my mom had made. She made three dreses – one blue for herself, an orange one for my sister, and a pink one for me. There were puffy sleeves and a puffy skirt, made out of a satiny fabric with a lace front piece. I felt so beautiful, at 5 years of age, in this delicate easter dress.

But this particular lace came from my mom’s dress. There were pieces from all three dresses, but the largest was blue and I would wear it with whatever I was wearing. It was a veil or a cape or a skirt. There was a day when I was outside playing, wearing my blue lace. I wasn’t wearing anything besides the blue lace. My brother was in kindergarten, and all of a sudden I see the big yellow bus on the curves of our driveway. I remember running as fast as I possibly can to the trees, terrified that Daniel’s classmates and the students on the bus would see me.

Over time the lace got smaller and smaller. I wasn’t sure why this was. I was growing, though. So it became a doll’s wrap and I cut it up and used it to cover shelves and now it’s completely gone, as far as I know.