And, she danced! There was laughter and flirting and admiring young men trying to get just one dance. There was punch and cookies, there was music and...light, and she danced, all through the night. She was 22 years old. She walked down the isle. Everyone was there. Butterflies danced madly in her stomach, her gown her mother’s, her hair in a coiffure of bluebells and light from the delicate things woven into it, her arm wrapped in her fathers, her eyes locked on the one whom she would promise. She was the only one, besides Danny and me, who hadn’t really had anything to drink.Mona lurched to her feet and held out her hand to her granddaughter. Tabby helped her climb the stairs.“I’ll give up my bed,” sighed Randi. She looked at Mom. “Your bed’s plenty big enough for two, if you won’t flop all over it.” My mother was known to take up the whole bed.“Okay,” said my mother, her voice muzzy.The two of them left.That left Randi’s bed, and mine.“I like the boy,” said Danny, “but not enough. More

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