Years ago my husband spent several weeks working in Russia; he brought home a Matryoshka doll for each of the girls in the family- including me. They have lived together, with only occasional strife, on the top of my kitchen cupboards for years.
Alas, two moved away. The taller doll moves away in the next year.
Then it will be but the little Matryoshka doll looking down over a house full of Legos, testosterone and abandoned orphan-socks.
Is that painted joy or dismay on her face?