I took down the hem because I was tall,
taller than my mother had been,
taller than my grandmother,
thin as both,
playing dress up in hand me downs,
wanting to wear pink and be a girl,
but fitting into overalls better,
twirling around the back bedroom,
getting caught and in trouble for not asking first,
then being dressed up like a doll in hats and crinolines,
laughing like a child,
wearing the clothes of other generations.
How different we all were at our different times in history.
That fading pink dress with bolero,
full of memories, not just mine, but theirs,
and now in my closet.
That fading pink dress that no longer fits my adult frame,
hanging carefully in the back of the closet.
That fading pink dress that brings her back.
A precious piece of history and just a fading cotton dress.
I took the hem down because I was tall.
