Mamma always had a love for other people's possessions. One of my earliest memories is walking to the park, my hand firmly tucked into hers. I was an impulsive child, and likely would have darted into traffic after a passing butterfly if she hadn't kept a vice-like grip on me. I like to think she was trying desperately to protect me, but knowing what I know now, it's just as likely that she was holding my hand to keep herself grounded.  Regardless of her intent, I can feel the connection still – two magnets drawn together, fingers intertwined.  We were playing one of our imaginary games. Mamma