A black satin dress that was once my grandmother’s hangs in my closet. It’s wrinkled at the edges, but soft and firm, a silver zipper lining the center of its back.
When my grandmother passed, we wrapped her in russet taffeta and put marigolds in her hair.
But I like to picture her life: all brown curls and red lips, a dancer in 1960’s Paris.
I like to picture her in our black satin dress, tangoing through sunsets and waltzing through blue skies.
Stunning writing. I loved this.
LikeLiked by 2 people
Thank you so much!
LikeLiked by 1 person
true or not a stunning tribute to all grandmothers, well written!
LikeLiked by 1 person
Thank you so much!
LikeLiked by 1 person
you’re most welcome!
LikeLiked by 1 person
Cherishing your grandmother long after she is gone, it moves my heart.
LikeLiked by 1 person
Thank you ❤️
LikeLiked by 1 person