A summer afternoon. Back in Berlin. Just like every other vacation. My mother, my sister, and I. And although the warm sun is shining outside, we're sitting in an apartment in Köpenick. Actually, in our great-grandmother's apartment. We come here often. We listen to her stories or share stories from our lives so she can share in ours. Today we're talking about marriage. She tells us about her wedding. We speculate about when my sister and I will get married. We always say that our great-grandmother will live to see it. Suddenly, she pulls out her old wedding dress. I put it on for fun. I don't even want to get married. It's white, simple, and has a few age spots. I think it's missing a necklace. My great-grandmother gets a small box of jewelry. An inconspicuous, old-fashioned, eye-catching necklace immediately catches my eye. I put it on. My great-grandmother's eyes sparkle. I ask her if I can inherit the necklace. But she doesn't want to. Instead, she gives me the necklace made by living, old hands. Whenever I wear the necklace, I think of her. Her love for us and our love for her.
