My mother was br a being born of br miracles, of monsters, br magic, mayhem br and mystery. br br br She once described br a winter fig: br 'That tree is a br spaceship from Pluto.' br br br My father, son of br calm reason and br clear chill logic, br twisted his head. br br br 'No.' br br br There was always br finality whenever he said br his favorite word. br br br He then clucked his tongue, br a seemingly innocuous habit br which nonetheless conveyed br an unrelenting disapproval br of the entire world. br br br 'That tree looks like rain, ' said he, br sadness dropping his voice.