My friend held on to it all these years and then when she decided to re-home it, she gave it to me because she knew I was ready to receive it. Her timing was perfect and I felt wonder, not sorrow, at the sight of it. It was a reflection of my mother, so delicate and filled with music. I gently twisted the fragile children, they slowly turned as tinny notes of a song about love pinged from its base. Covered in mother memories, I cupped the gift in my hands and felt a little more of my long-held grief turn to mourning…