I wonder when the first piece of emotional baggage is placed into a child’s hand. I can clearly remember the confusion of this first piece of luggage; the strap being wrapped around my tiny wrist, the feeling of helplessness tightening this armature. I did not attempt to get it off but instead held onto it as hard as my weak little hand could manage. I continued to arrange my miniature wicker furniture to distract my feelings. This was the first time that I knew my tears would not help and for some reason thought they would make the situation worse.