There is something missing in every one of us. We live with missing pieces to the puzzle of our existence. Every childhood is marked by experiences that remain a mystery despite our most persistent analysis, experiences that can neither be explained nor entirely ignored. These events pass through the wide nets of distant memory, and shadow the edge of our everyday awareness. We can neither fathom their significance nor deny the power they exert over us, an undertow that is subtle and that pervades every aspect of our lives. The extent to which these forgotten events influence the formation of our character cannot be calculated. We remain a mystery to ourselves. The older we become, the deeper the mystery.