Growing up, my sister and I moved around a lot. We weren’t Army brats or the daughters of oilmen: our parents stayed in the same place. We just moved in between their homes, every week or two for over a decade. Besides the obvious, this was not ideal for multiple reasons: the soccer uniform was never at the right house; there would be 8 hairbrushes at one and none at the other; and you hesitated every time someone asked you your home phone number. Something I still do. Two things, however, remained constant. Frisko and Yaya. Frisko arrived around the time that the moving began and was an even-tempered marmalade or ginger cat with dog-like tendencies. Yaya is an even-tempered Jamaican woman who, for all intents and purposes, was our third parent.