The Troubles Tree

The carpenter I hired to help me restore an old farmhouse had just
finished a rough first day on the job. A flat tire made him lose an
hour of work, his electric saw quit, and now his ancient pickup truck
refused to start. While I drove him home, he sat in stoney silence. On
arriving, he invited me in to meet his family. As we walked toward the
front door, he paused briefly at a small tree, touching the tips of
the branches with both hands. After opening the door, he underwent an
amazing transformation. His tanned face was wreathed in smiles and he
hugged his two small children and gave his wife a kiss. Afterward, he
walked me to my car. We passed the tree, and my curiosity got the
better of me. I asked him about what I had seen him do earlier. "Oh,
that's my trouble tree," he replied. "I know I can't help having
troubles on the job, but one thing for sure, troubles don't belong in
the house with my wife and the children. So I just hang them up on the
tree every night when I come home. Then in the morning, I pick them up
again." "Funny thing is," he smiled, "when I come out in the morning
to pick them up, there aren't nearly as many as I remember hanging up
the night before."