A month after we moved into our new house, Dad redecorated the dressing room.
He had two mannequins made, one big and one small.
The big one wore Mom's lavender dress.
The small one wore a matching dress he'd made just for me.
They stood side by side in the middle of the room, like a mother and daughter holding hands.
"I'll still make new dresses every month. For you. And for your mom."
He kept his promise.
Every first Saturday of the month, he'd spend the whole day in his studio.
Sometimes I'd go in and watch him draw designs or cut fabric.
Once, he held up a piece of light blue fabric.
"What do you think of this one?"
"It's pretty."
He held it up to the window, letting the sunlight shine through it.
"Your mom loved blue. But she looked best in lavender."
I didn't ask how he
