When I moved from France to New York eight years ago, I did not bring many things. I had sold all my furniture, left my books and objects in my mother's basement, and pretty much came empty handed. One of the few things I carried with me was this stuffed animal. My aunt gave it to my mother as a present when I was born. It is a stuffed mouse that my aunt made using scraps of wool, velvet and silk, and a sweater than she hand-knitted. We called it Souricette which means "little mouse" in French. I recall always having it around growing up, although it was too precious for me to play with when I was a small child, and it took a while before I was allowed to handle it. The mouse now sits in my daughter's bedroom. I love the idea of passing it on to her, as it is a piece of me as well as a family heirloom that tells a piece of my personal story. My daughter and I like to talk about the fact that the mouse traveled with me, all the way from home, and followed me into my new life here in America.
– Billie Martineau