My fingers meet fabric and I suddenly remember my tail.

How I could swim for ages with my sisters, often skimming just under the surface of the sun-warmed sea - too frightened to break the water tension and end up angering my father.

My beloved sisters talking about the wonders of the deepest sea to the sandiest of shores. I would listen with rapt attention as they combed and braided each others hair in the evenings.

My father, king of all the seas, gently showing me as a child the best way to swim with the current so I could always find my way home. Letting me hold his trident and explaining its powers.

My own treasures, a cave full of things I found while exploring. Then -

“Mom? What’s that?” A small voice shook me out of my memories.

My daughter Flora looked curiously at the pink tattered dress I was holding.

“Come here, little Treasure,” I patted my knee. “Let me tell you a story…”