And suddenly, I missed her more than ever. My grandmothers were here and my aunts and cousins and BFF, but the one person who was missing was Mom, and I really, really wished she were here. I missed her all the time, but at this moment, wearing this dress, it hit me hard that she wasn’t here. I started to cry, and I just couldn’t stop.

Mimi hugged me tight, then Kelsey and Nans, and Aunt Melissa and Casey. There were so many arms around me that I didn’t know whose hands or arms belonged to who. Soon we were a big pile of crying arms.

Finally it was Molly who yelled, “And break!”

We were all so startled we laughed. Casey handed out tissues, and everyone blew their noses.

Mimi cupped her hand under my chin. “You okay?” she asked.

I nodded and smiled. “Mom would want me to wear this dress,” I said. “It would make her so happy.”

Tears streamed down Mimi’s face, but she was smiling. “She would have picked this out herself,” she said. “It’s the perfect dress for you.”

Nans knelt down next to me. “Someone hand me my sewing box.”

Jenna passed it to her and Nans started pinning the dress up a little. Lily helped me put on a pair of sparkly sandals, and Jenna pulled my hair so it was half up, half down. I still looked like me, but with a dreamy dress.

“Done!” said Kelsey, satisfied.

Everyone clapped.

“Whoo-hoo Team Dress!” said Molly.

“And now we eat donuts!” said Casey.

Nans and Mimi helped me out of the dress and I slipped back into shorts and a shirt. I followed Nans into the kitchen to help with the donuts.

“Do you know why I love donuts, Lindsay?” she asked.

“Because they’re delicious?” I answered, watching her roll out the big ball of dough.

“Well, yes,” she said. “But see how I make them? You use the dough cutter to cut out circles from the rolled-out dough.”

I nodded as I watched her. I had seen her make donuts millions of times. She could probably make them in her sleep.

“Each donut is a circle,” she said. “You drop the circles in the oil or the fryer and scoop them right out when they’re done.”

I watched as she tossed the circles of dough into bubbling-hot oil in the pan.

“The thing is,” said Nans, “they have a hole in the middle, but they’re surrounded by dough.” We both watched as the dough bubbled.

“That hole,” she began, “reminds me that sometimes there’s a hole inside us. Sometimes it gets filled or sometimes we don’t notice it as much, but it’s always there.”

She scooped out the puffed-up donuts with a slotted spoon and laid them on paper towels to drain.