I remember Estella, my caretaker, while my mom was away. Her love-radiated words weren’t necessary. I remember she’d braid my hair each night, saying it was necessary for healthy hair. This tree in the center of two busy ruas (streets) is not alone. She’s made up of multiple branches, and I’d like to think she feels alone amongst so many people. Braids are beautiful tangles that represent culture for many groups of people. Braids and an entangled tree feel like me in a city where I’m so close but far.