My mother married my dad when she was twenty-three. Instead of a white dress, she wore a smart skirt and jacket, corsage, white gloves, warm smile, her wavy hair carefully set. The wedding photo, shot at a long-gone studio, hangs on my bedroom wall. In it, my father is twenty-one. Handsome in a suit, with shiny shoes and skinny…
Lisa Gregoire
Lisa Gregoire has written for newspapers and magazines for thirty-five years. She has twice won gold at the National Magazine Awards.