In the corner of my daughter's room is a little four-poster bed. On it lies my favorite doll, which I saved for my children to play with. She's covered with a tiny pink coverlet edged in hand-tied fringe. The coverlet was my first sewing project, made when I was nine..

The queen was slim and elegant as she moved slowly among her attendants. I could not take my eyes off her. But Miss Henderson told us our time at the Nature Center was over; the fifth graders had to return to school. I took one last look at the little.

I always thought of Dad as the Fix-it Man; he could mend anything. His motto was "Use it up. Wear it out. Fix it well or do without." With three little girls and an old house, he had a lot of fixing to do. In the small town where I grew.

I am the tailored type, most comfortable in well-worn denim or comfortable tweeds. My sister, Ellen, has been trying to update my look for years with little success. A little while ago, when she became engaged, I told her I had nothing to wear to an evening wedding. Today she's taking.

  As my sister's car disappears over the top of the hill, her faint toot in farewell tells me she has turned onto the main road. The dust settles on our lane as I look to the pile of boxes she just left behind. When Mother died last year, Dad gave.