I have had a couple of "oh my goodness" moments over the last few weeks. I walked past a mirror and saw a white-haired Grammy in MY dress. I lifted my arms and my Ouma's arms were kneading bread. I filled my little antique ceramic bowl with favorite candies and suddenly my mother's two little glass jars appeared in my mind’s eye, one with Liquorice Allsorts, one with Mint Imperials. The ghosts of memories are sacred visitors and I find myself holding my breath as they pass.