My mother didn' t. The day before the prom， I found that dress—in the right size—draped majestically over the living-room sofa. It wasn' t just delivered， still in the box. It was presented to me—beautifully， artistically，lovingly. I didn' t care if I had a new dress or not. But my mother did.
She wanted her children to feel loved and lovable， creative and imaginative， imbued with a sense that there was magic in the world and beauty even in the face of adversity. In truth， my mother wanted her children to see themselves much like the gardenia—lovely， strong and perfect—with an aura of magic and perhaps a bit of mystery.