I hung up the congratulations—my first—right smack in the middle of the bathroom mirror, covering up one of the biggest cracks.

I stepped back and regarded the letter.

As I did, a hundred tiny mes gazed out of the broken mirror, regarding me in turn. For some reason, they reminded me of something strange Mama used to say.

Mama always said that she loved her kids "to pieces."

I didn't know what she meant, back then. But I think I do now.