THE incident occurred a mere 13 years ago. I was at the delicate age of three. The daunting event still remains vivid in my head to this day. We left the wholesale store, Makro, and drove our way to Ragland. When we arrived, the colossal doors greeted us. Beyond the doors lay the square counter that was lined with tills and situated perfectly in the middle of the entrance. Mountains made from material rolls lay around me. This place was a wonderland. The thrill of crawling beneath the large cutting tables, to summit the mountains of material, to climb into the fabric baskets, to search for “treasure” — which I now know to be sequins — this gigantic building represented one thing for me, adventure.