When my beloved Aunt Lillie died, I was shattered.

One of the things that helped was reminiscing about the richness she added to my life from the time of my earliest memories when I was a very small girl.

I wrote down a bunch of my memories, & several months later, when I got together with her daughters for some reason or other, I printed out copies of those little stories for each daughter.

It's something you can do for yourself or for a grieving friend or relative, it's easy, & it's very healing.

& the memory doesn't have to be a big thing, like the time your loved one gave you a zillion dollars, in fact it's the little, finely-detailed experiences from day-to-day life that make the best memories & the best stories.

Here's one of my stories, both so you can see how easy it is to do & so you can see why I loved my Aunt Lillie.

(sorry about the title, don't know how to get it centered to submit to gardenweb).

The Doll Dress

When I was a little girl, someone gave me one of those small hard plastic dolls, about 8" tall, with jointed shoulders, legs, & neck.

Their eyes opened and closed with an audible click,

& their impossibly long lower eyelashes were painted on.

They had mohair wigs, & their dresses were usually made of taffeta:

2 strips crisscrossed for the bodice, & the rest was gathered into a full ankle-length skirt, sometimes covered in lace.

They often had big bows in their hair.

I think those little dolls were originally designed to grace the tops of heart-shaped candy boxes or to be collected in glass cases on the dressing tables of teen-aged girls.

They certainly werenÂt designed for little girls to play with,

& their delicate dresses never lasted long.

I donÂt remember if my doll arrived in a worn-out dress or if she came to me au naturelle, but my Aunt Lillie crocheted her a beautiful dress from variegated purple crochet thread.

It had a full-ish skirt (school dress length like mine rather than ball gown length) & a pinafore-style top, like an apron in front with crisscrossed straps in the back, with tiny buttons fastening the straps to the bodice.

Try as I might, I couldnÂt get my fingers to work those buttons.

Aunt Lillie showed me how it was done.

"Just pull the top over her little head", she said, suiting action to word.

I loved that doll & her clicky eyes & her hand-crocheted purple dress, & I remember the gratitude I felt to Aunt Lillie for showing me how to change her dress.