Hats

My grandmother loved hats. Hats and gloves. 

My mother used to say hats and gloves were the shopping purview of plump women. Be that as it may, there was no denying my grandmother's fondness for millinery.

On the day she died she took a train into Boston and found herself a hat she just couldn't resist. The shopkeeper wrapped her prize in tissue paper before placing it in a sturdy hatbox. She returned home later that afternoon and placed the hatbox on her dresser before lying down for a nap. As she closed her eyes she glanced one more time at her new hat. It was the last thing she saw.

I hope I too will see something I love just before my death. But in the meantime, I'm just trying to live up to my hat......

“I recommend the French beret, for it gives the impression of just the right soft toughness, a veritable wave of sophisticated brain matter. It is the kind of hat that inspires a person to grow into it, to become the person they never knew they could be.” 
― Meia Geddes, Love Letters to the World