On every hot day of the summer, I Tazia did the exact same thing; she sat beneath the lemon tree in her backyard. From the outside, this lemon tree was average. It was a good size and it always had emerald leaves, but all together normal. But to Tazia, it was a sanctuary. And beneath it's emerald leaves lied a hoard of memories, more precious to her than life itself. Not only were her first steps taken there, along with her first kiss, but she could also still here the booming laugh of her now deceased father. She could still feel the coopl breeze that came with the changing of the leaves. Yes, she found comfort beneath the lemon tree where others found grass. She found hope where others found fruit. She saw herself where others saw a tree. She found life in the lemon tree; and that was all she ever wanted.