Isabella

Ma made sure I had a weddin’ gown, no matter what, and a big tear rolls down my cheek as she unfurls it.

“Well, it ain’t much, but it was mine, and my mother’s before me,” she says, lookin’ a little shy, like she thinks it’s not enough.

“Ma, it’s the most beautiful dress I’ve ever seen!” I breathe, runnin’ my fingers over the soft lace and delicate ruffles. It’s clear the dress is old, but Ma’s made it even more beautiful.

“How did you make it longer for me, Ma?” I ask, admirin’ how perfectly it fits.

Ma smirks. “Well, I added some length at the hem and...