As I folded laundry recently, I found polka dot baby socks and striped size 6 months pants in the basket of clean clothes. My niece wore some of Isabella's clothes when my sisters stayed with me after Mom died. Seeing several outfits get worn was a delight. Folding them up to put back in a dresser full of unworn baby clothing was tough. While I never forget that Isabella would be growing up and such an integral part of daily life, seeing baby clothes mixed in with my laundry brought this point home. I would have done countless Isabella-related loads covered in a variety of substances, struggling to match tiny socks and wondering how such a small child could create so much laundry. Instead, I paused, breathing deeply with eyes closed, picturing what she would have looked like in these items. An impossible exercise, for my imagination fails to fill in details. I was reminded reminded of the short story attributed to Hemingway. "For sale: baby shoes, never worn."
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