In my purging and packing, I decided it was time to let go of my wedding dress. The one I married Will in eight years ago this coming August. There was no reason to keep it. Daughters want gowns of their own and not the outdated ones of there mothers. I did keep the veil however. It is a family heirloom. My sister, Kate and I decided it would be anyway seven summers ago when she wore it to marry. We decided that we would force our yet unborn daughters and daughters in law to wear it. Gowns are a product of the fashion ills of their times, but a veil is a veil. So I kept the veil and showed it to my little girl, lover of all things princess. She, of course, had to try it on at once and have her picture taken. It might be the only picture of her in it I get. I remember trying on my mother’s gown and veil when I was about 8. Which was the only time I fit into it really. Mom weighed ninety-two pounds when she married Dad. Even if I had been able to wiggle into it though, I wouldn’t have wanted to wear it. It was hers and not me at all. Katy may have my same headstrong and willful nature and certainly is my match on the patience scale, but we are different people, and my perfectly Disneyfied princess child will always have a better sense of style than I.