Christmas Dress

Fiorella's parents didn't speak of love. In fact, they were deeply suspicious of of people who did. We were supposed to be a tough lot, practical to the bone, holding no truck with the softer emotions.

Practicality meant that Daddy sacrificed his creamy white tennis flannels for Mother to cut and sew for my Christmas dress. Practicality meant that the only decoration on the dress was the red and green yarn which Mother painstakingly backstitched around its square neck and cap sleeves.

After all, it was just after World War II and good fabric was hard to come by, much less nice Christmas dresses for little girls.

My parents may not have spoken of love, but they lived it.