Lying in bed with the lights dimmed I began to hear the poem I had been practicing being repeated. Â The sound was coming from Mitten one of my toys snuggled next to me in bed. I started to talk back to her in Ukrainian, “Ñ‚ÐµÐ¿ÐµÑ€ Ð¼ÑƒÑÐµÐ¼Ñƒ ÑÐ¿Ð°Ñ‚Ð¸ Ñ–Ñ‚Ð¸ Ð±Ð¾ Ð·Ð°Ð²Ñ‚Ñ€Ð° Ð½Ð°Ð¼ Ñ‚Ñ€ÐµÐ±Ð° Ñ€Ð°Ð½Ð¾ ÑÑ‚Ð°Ð²Ð°Ñ‚Ð¸ Ð±Ð¾ Ð¼ÑƒÑÐµÐ¼Ñƒ Ð´Ð¾ ÑˆÐºÐ¾Ð»Ð¸ Ñ–Ñ‚Ð¸,”Â then the door creaked open and my sister stood in the doorway, “who are you talking to?” she asked “No one,” I said. Â Mitten winked at me as my sister left the room. Â It was our little secret forever. Mittens smiled.