My sister, Lorinda, was seven years old. I was eight. We were in a park, crossing a grassy field, my sister between mom and dad, holding their hands. I was off on my own, looking for treasure but lost in thought. Lorinda found the treasure, a scattering of coins in the grass. Lorinda and my parents searched about for buffalo nickels, Mercury dimes, silver quarters and half-dollars. I stood back, disappointed. They counted. They divided the coins. My sister, her hands too small for the coins she carried, walked to where I stood and gave me half the treasure.