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the tree in the front yard was very large. it's branches reached out to the house, some touched the wall of my bedroom.
the wall of my bedroom that my bed was pushed up against.
every night he stealthily climbed the tree, inched out on the limb and sat listening to me through the wall. often times he would bring his toolbox. when he thought i was asleep he would begin his work. i could hear the saw, pushed and pulled, back and forth, cutting through the wall.
i lay with my back to the wall, sheet over my head. i knew if i actually saw the blade peeking through the wall, i would instantly die of a heart attack. so, i lay, just listening, and waiting...
it was hard work cutting through the wall, sometimes he worked all night. at any moment i fully expected he would finish his work and a perfectly round circle of wall would fall backwards into the grass below. he would reach inside and snatch me from my bed.
my dad told me it was only the wind causing branches to scrape the aluminum siding. would he miss me when i was gone?