Anyway, she brought an old picture of me hoisting up a book into the banyan tree on the side of our house. You can see my dad's old boat in the background. And blue tarps on the roof of the house, his solution to a leaky roof.
Seeing that old photo brought back some fond and not so fond memories. I truly loved that tree and would spend hours on end up in its branches to read and to get away from the shouting and cursing of my parents down below. I distinctly remember the day it was taken. It was early in the morning, the sun was just rising and because my father took the picture, it was on a Saturday or Sunday when he was home. He encouraged me to climb trees and again, if you read my books, got me into karate by the time I was twelve because, by God, he may not have a son but that doesn't mean he can't make me the son he never had!
He was laughing when he saw me up there and snapped the picture. Mom, on the other hand, was screaming her head off while simultaneously scolding dad for cheering me on and yelling up at me to "get down from there this minute before you break your neck!"