And we got it.
A shiny new box from one of our uncles on the last day of our visit to Canada. It had never been opened, no one had ever set eyes on the mysteries hidden inside it. No one had lifted its cover or rolled that fated dice.
And then we forgot it. On the plane. On our way back to Africa.
I don't think forgetfulness is hereditary, so much as it is a misuse of time. We are always so eager to rush ahead that we often forget to pause and ask ourselves...
One, two, three, do I have everything with me?
For my sweet daughter who learned that grade one is easier when you don't forget your schoolbag behind.