I was 11 years old before I ever spent the night away from home. To call Mama overprotective was an understatement. She didn’t want me spending the night with people she didn’t know or feel comfortable with. She had her reasons, as crazy and fantastical as they were. Once, I befriended a new girl in my class and she had a spend-the-night party. I could not go. “I don’t know her,” Mama stated simply. “You aren’t the one invited; I am.”