19 “Marcos!” my father repeated. I looked in the direction of my father’s voice and called, “I’m coming, Poppi!” I quickly filled my pockets with the delicious gumballs and looked up at the tree. Its branches waved a gentle goodbye to me. I touched its bark. “I’ll remember,” I whispered, “and I’ll be back.” As I ran to Poppi, I looked back to make sure I would never forget where my special tree stood. It waved again and I called out, “Goodbye!” “Who were you talking to?” Poppi asked. I smiled. “I just said goodbye to the trees.” “That’s my boy!” he exclaimed proudly. “A chiclero already!”