Sébastien’s grandmother, Mamie, was always hunting for four-leaf clovers.
You would be walking on grass with her and she would suddenly bend down and come up with one in her hand.
They brought bonheur, she believed in that, and she didn’t have much money, so that was one of the things she collected for her family: bonheur.
She gave 18 of them, framed, to one granddaughter on her eighteenth birthday.
When she died on Christmas Eve and we filled her tiny apartment with oysters and buche de Noël and all the other French Christmas Eve delicacies we had been bringing with us in the car over to the hospital, in the hopes of celebrating it with her, this one was sitting on her bathroom sink.
Her daughter, Claudine, gave it to me that same Christmas Eve.
And now it watches over Mia.