As the family walks to the mango tree, the young narrator is thrilled: She’s finally old enough to help pick them. Her brother tells her that everyone has a mango memory. He describes the excitement he felt climbing a tree for the first time to pluck mangoes. When the girl begins to climb, however, she gets dizzy. Seeing her upset, her father reminisces about how, when he was a boy, a generous benefactor shared mangoes from his orchard. The narrator’s grandmother tries to get her excited again by pointing a well-aimed stone at the hard-to-reach mangoes, but despite her many tries, the girl keeps missing. She frets that she hasn’t created any joyful memories. At home, the family delights in their harvest, with mango juice dripping down their chins and sticky pulp covering their faces, and the girl realizes that she’s found her mango memory. Singh brings to life the excitement of waiting to pick—and finally eating—mangoes: a tradition observed by many South Asian families. Though the writing is a bit flat in places, the family’s joyful bonding is palpable, and Ali’s images brim with warmth, especially the mangoes, which pop against the page. Characters are depicted with a wide range of brown skin tones.