By Vanessa Simmons
One morning I was sent down to the Pizza to fetch a can of evaporated milk. It was either daddy or uncle Nolly who sent me, and I have to say I was not quick about it. I imagine the coffee was cold by the time I got back. I was wearing the usual shorts and t-shirt, and was not much older than 5. It was early, which meant the restaurant was not yet open and only my mother and perhaps one staff member were about, and they were too busy to mind me.
So I did what every child does when unattended; I climbed the plum tree behind the restaurant and lowered myself onto the roof. Somehow the can of milk fit exactly in my pocket. My shorts sagged on one side, but it freed my hands for climbing. I scaled the roof to the very top, and sat there, enjoying the view. And then I slid down the other side. That was fun! I went to do it again, but my feet were dusty, as was the roof, and I could find no purchase. And my shorts kept falling down because of the milk. I kept trying to scale the roof without making a sound, I was sure they could hear me. I started to despair. No one knew where I was and I would have to live on the roof forever. It was either stamp my feet and get in trouble, or die on that roof. So I gave it one last try, and did it! I made it back to the top! I was saved!
So of course I slid back down to do it again!