When I was a child, my mother gave me a cup. A porcelain one with painted bunnies in dresses and a sackcloth. She showed me her gift so lovingly. She was so pleased with how long I looked at the picture. The cup was stolen from me while I was in the hospital. Years of psychotherapy, working in a 12-step self-help program. And nothing. But one day I asked Ok, google 'the bunny cup'. Ninety-three dollars, and I was finally happy. And it wasn't about the cup.