Climbing Trees

A huge Oak tree grew along our farm’s property line. Lush, green grasses sprouted under expansive shade the tree provided. The area was like a secret meadow intended for only my brother and I.

On windy days I’d venture away from the house and spin in circles in the meadow, allowing the tall grasses to tickle at my legs. My hair whipped my face, but I’d smile—this was heaven.

One afternoon Dad nailed boards into the trunk of the Oak, so Kris and I could climb up and imagine worlds far beyond the one we lived in. We discussed imaginary wars and how we wanted to design our military base high up in the branches.

We could see for miles. Rows and rows of cotton made up the landscape to our right, and grazing cattle filled the fields to our left. Every white bud on the plants was an enemy; each cow was something we had to protect.

Mom called for dinner.

“We’ll discuss storming the alien ship tomorrow,” Kris said, climbing down the tree. He waited for me at the bottom. “You coming?”

Suddenly the ground appeared far away. My hands sweat and I imagined falling on my back with the wind knocked out of me. Shaking my head, I said, “How do I get down?”

Kris arched his eyebrow. “The same way you got up.”

“It’s not the same way.” I leaned forward, everything inside me screaming to cling to a branch for dear life. The first board was further away than I’d remembered. How was I supposed to get my scrawny legs to it? My face flashed hot; my stomach turned. “Can you get Dad?”

“Just come down,” he said. “You got up, you can get down.”

“Please . . . .”

Kris propped his hands on his hips and shook his head.

Mom called for us again.

“We’re going to get in trouble if you don’t hurry.”

His voice teased at my fears. What was worse, falling and dying or having Mom and Dad mad at me?

“Please go get Dad?”

Kris narrowed his eyes. “You’re acting like a baby. Just lie on your stomach, hold onto a branch and slide your feet over the side.”

“What if my feet miss?”

“I’ll tell you which way to go.”

Getting on my stomach, I followed Kris’ instructions to the letter, but my feet found nothing but stairless bark. I lost my resolve and scrambled back to the top. “I can’t do it.”

I turned around, but Kris was gone. I was alone, standing in a tall tree in what used to be my favorite meadow. How could he leave me? Where did he go? How was I going to get down?

So not to lose my balance and fall, I sat down and folded my legs over each other. Twenty minutes later, I started screaming for my brother or dad or mom—whoever would come, but no one did.

Five or six more times I attempted to climb down, but couldn’t find the stairs. I wound up paralyzed by fear, dangling on the trunk.

Then I heard my dad whistling. The normally agitating sound was sweet relief to my nerves.

“Dad,” I screamed.

He carried a ladder and headed straight for me.

Struggling to maintain my grip, I sighed when the I felt the metals steps beneath my feet. I climbed down and hugged my dad. “Why did Kris leave me?”

“He thought you’d find your way down eventually. Guess I’ll have to add another step for you.”

My hands stung; my heart raced, but I was down and alive. On solid ground. I swore never to go up that tree again, and to punch my brother as soon as I got in the house.