My sister had mocked a dress sewn by a mother for the daughter she would never see grow up.
My parents had laughed at a child wearing one of the few things she still had from her mommy.
They hadn’t merely criticized an inexpensive outfit.
They had made my daughter feel ashamed of something created with love.
I hugged Lily so tightly that she giggled.
“Daddy, you’re squishing me!”
I kissed her forehead.
“I’m sorry, princess.”
She held up the silver crown.
“Can I wear this with my dress?”
I smiled.
“Of course.”
Then she asked a question I will remember for the rest of my life.
“Do you think Mommy knows I love it?”
I kissed her again.
“Sweetheart, I think she always knew.”
When I returned to the dining room, Lily was holding my hand.
She was wearing the silver bracelet and clutching her little crown.
