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In the attic there is a cedar chest. Carefully folded away inside is my mother's silk wedding dress.
Once I thought that I would wear that dress. Then the war came and George died.
My brother's wife didn't want to wear the dress, of course. My younger sister, Rachel, ran off to Elk Green one night.
I don't know that my great-niece will ever marry. If she does, she will probably want a dress of her own. That seems to be the custom these days.
I still keep the dress carefully folded away. I still live in the house where I was born.
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