I have been tamed by the tree I live in.

I was all giddy with excitement. My powder blue dress with the lace apron and tiny butterflies made me feel grown up and I was determined to act like a proper lady amidst all the adults. I had barely turned seven and it was the first time I was allowed to get into the Main Theater of the Cultural Center.

The usherette (Ooh I think I want to be an usherette when I grow up  in a glamorous theater like this!) led me and my Mommy to our seats. I took it all in - the nice red theater seats and the beautiful giant reddish and orangey painting on the stage. Then, the lights started to dim and the painting just went up and disappeared. I squeezed my mom’s hand in excitement. The big black grand piano appeared! Then, I saw him walk in. He looked like a very important giant penguin. He threw a warm smile at the audience and sat down.

He started playing a really nice piece. It went tantantantanantan-dumdedumdumdadum…. I really liked it and started tapping my foot. Mommy said, “sshhh,” and tapped my knee. Oops! I have to be a proper lady. I was really loving this. I was in a beautiful theater! Watching a piano concerto! With adults, after dinner! I was loving the grown-up life, yes I wasssszzzzzzzzzzzzzzz.

I slept right through it. I was a little girl after all. And it was way past my bedtime.

I woke up to the sound of applause. I sat up and looked straightaway to where he was. He was taking a bow. He looked a bit shy, actually. Everyone just kept on clapping and they all started to stand up. It was a standing ovation! He was really good! Ooh, I was just so impressed.

My mom grabbed my hand and said that we should go out to the lobby so that we can shake his hand. I was all up for this. (My second wind had just kicked in.) As we went out, I eagerly craned my neck to find him amidst the tall crowd.

Hmmm. I think this was not going to happen. There he was, surrounded by so many important-looking people. And they were all so tall, he will not see me. Oh well. How disappointing. Then, to my surprise, his eyes looked down at me. I beamed at him.

“Excuse me,” he said to the the people congratulating him. He made a beeline for me and asked, “so did my little niece think I was good?”

I said, “yes, of course.”

“Which was your favorite?” He was testing me.

I looked right into his eyes. “The first one,” I quipped.

Papa was everything I could ask for in a grandfather. He was a big burly man with a deep voice (best for scaring away all the bullies) and had really soft eyes that speak of his kind soul. We were inseparable. I went with him to work at the hospital and 5-year-old me never got queasy when he would cut up the specimen at the lab with me looking on. He took me to all my activities and waited patiently through hours of swimming training and sat through all the ballet and piano recitals and whatever else I was into at the moment. He gave me serious lessons in whistling and passing my finger through a candle flame.

I loved him so much that my little 7-year-old head was very much concerned about preserving his longevity. He did have a very bad habit of chain-smoking and I zoned in on it. I told him how can he keep on accompanying me to my activities until I was a hundred years old if he kept on this very bad habit? I had the perfect solution. I charged him a huge fine every time I would catch him smoking. I posted No Smoking signs all over the house. I hid underneath tables and behind doors and scared the wits out of him when I caught him. It became a game we played for a very long time. It also seemed like a huge allowance raise as I did collect the fine every single time.

After a while, he did cut down smoking. However, I became quite upset that he did not seem to care enough to stop smoking completely for me. Then, one day when I was already ten, as I came home from school, I went directly to where he was sitting and started telling him about my day. He was not saying anything and just looked at me as I went on and on. Then I stopped and saw that there was smoke coming out of his ears. With my eyes in tiny slits, I reached out my hand to collect my fine. He couldn’t hold it in anymore and started laughing. I realized then that he didn’t stop completely because he didn’t care. He didn’t stop completely because it was a game we played that went on and on. And what he cared about was the time that we spent playing that game together.