Didn’t I tell you about it that one time? I could’ve sworn I did. Two summers ago when you held my hand and gave me the sunflowers that you had bought from a street vendor down Coral Way. Remember? I wanted to let you know that we weren’t perfect either but that every family has something that connects them together. You do remember the mangos… don’t you? I told you how papi used to give my brother and I black trash bags to take out to the backyard and fill up to the brim. It was always kind of nasty, stepping on the rotten fruit, green-orange ooze seeping in through our thin soled shoes, making us slip and fall atop more rotting deliciousness. We would return from the infested battlefield with sweat pouring down our faces, covered in muck and swatting away the vicious fruit flies that were mercilessly trying to nab a piece of our carefully collected prizes.
I told you about el recojedor de mangos right? The mango collector? Papi invented it one year when we got sick of having our soft mangos mating so forcefully with the hard ground. Two broomsticks sophistically taped together (black electrical tape mind you), with a basket and a hook on one end was all it took so that he could snatch the mangos right off the tree before they splattered. It was surprising how well it worked and how long the damn thing lasted.
I remember people from all over the neighborhood knocking on our door asking for mangos. Mami or papi would bring out the mango collector and hand it to them. ¡Disfrutenlo! Enjoy it! Others would just sneak into our backyard and take some. One year mami prepared dozens of baskets full of the delicious treats to give away to our family and friends. We went all over Miami delivering them. And the reactions? Unforgettable.
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