When he was two, seated in the antique highchair, he might have fallen, taking a dangerous crash. But Auntie was quick to catch him. No one yet knew he could kick himself backward from the breakfast table. Earlier, Auntie drew him close to smell the coffee beans as she opened the tin. But ZCHOOSH! the bean particles flew into his eyes when the vacuum released its contents. Tears and more tears, as Auntie apologized and tried to soothe. I, mother, stood by. All would be well—this, only the first time disappointment would follow anticipation in his dear, young life.