Dad had a fondness for taking me on adventures. We’d go to the movies and to amusement parks but our favorite were our nature walks, where we’d co-author elaborate tales about birds, leaves, and the clouds.

Dad’s guitar spent years in my mother’s closet. I would open it and shyly strum its firm strings. Those are the same strings my sons now explore and the ones my husband Nate plays every night before going to bed.

When I was in my 20s, my aunt Yarima handed me this cane, saying it had been my father’s. She told me that I could have it, but only if I knew what it did. Although I couldn’t remember the cane, I instinctively removed the dog’s head and found the sword.

Dad used to tell me about the blue bird of happiness. He’d say he’d seen it flying about, and when I’d ask if he’d caught it so I could also see it, he’d reply that you couldn’t capture it and should never cage it. He did catch it for this card, at least.