Tales from the Homeland: cleaning out closets

While helping my parents get settled into their new home, I found three sweet dresses I wore when I was a little girl. I wore one when I was 3. It's a little black velvet dress with a lace collar that I wore to my great-grandfather's funeral. When peering down into his grave, one of my older cousins told me to be careful not to fall in because they would never get me out. I still keep my distance. The dress is perfect for Magnolia right now.

The second dress was one I got specifically to wear to my grandparents' 50th wedding anniversary. It's white with red polka-dots and I wore a really full slip under it. I can't wait to see it on Cora. 

And last but not least, I found the outfit I wore when I was baptized. (Baptisms in the Mormon tradition happen when a child is 8.) I remember spending a long time at the JCPenney at  Tri-City mall picking it out. Generally girls wear white dresses to their baptism. I opted for a peachy pink. And because I couldn't help myself...
The shirt.
I think if I wasn't wearing my fabulously padded bra, it might just button. Does that mean my chest is the same size it was when I was 8? Almost. Nursing did a number. But I don't mind one single bit. Most of the time.

The whole ensemble. Sort of. I would totally still wear it, you know, if it really fit.

What's the real lesson in all of this? I've always loved pleats.


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