All of my granddaughters love my mother’s hats. They are so different, especially with the net pulled down. There is something mysterious about hiding behind it. Keeley and I talked about it. Did she want to take some photographs in the hats? YES. She did. She put on the string of pearls . . . my pearls . . . and brushed her hair. Her soft smiles concealed her shiny braces under her lips. She is twelve and a very pretty twelve at that. We found a spot and started with the red hat. Then the black hat and then the white hat with the feather. The white hat with the feather is always the favorite. I wish that I had hats from other years. Flapper hats from the twenties. Bonnets. Wouldn’t it be fun to have bonnets?
“Since everything is in our heads, we better not lose them.”