Here at Filly I wrap your dress on the wooden trunk in the living room. Each sheet of tissue paper has a creased corner because three years ago the bulk package of tissue paper got caught in the door and it takes forever to use up a whole package. I snip errant threads and pick off specks of lint and fold and refold until the dress looks like a gift. And then, on the way to Fedex, my graying dog Bello lays on the shipments and crumples them a bit so I slide them to the floor of the truck where they pick up a little dirt and the Check Engine light comes on and I listen to NPR and worry about the world and my place in it.
Filly is me and I am not perfect. Filly is me and I am just right. We all are.
Thank you, again, for the hundredth time, for liking and supporting what I do.