day 22- something you miss
I miss climbing a tree.
As a child, I had no fear of heights. My curiosity and sense of imaginative adventure propelled me up. My eyes and hands looking for a firm grip, pulling myself up, higher and higher. Finding a sturdy branch. Sitting awhile, swinging my legs back and forth, a satisfied expression lingering on my face as I examine the tree, the gnarly bark and leaves grazing my head, smelling the greenness. I would pluck a leaf to break it open, exposing more greenness into the air. Green, it just has that scent. I never looked too into it and would let the broken leaf float away with the wind.
At sunset, the world wasn’t so scary. A magical thing was happening, the sun is going to sleep. And from this height I swore I saw it wave goodbye, yawning, leaving trails of pink and purple staining its yellow and orange robes, finally wrapping itself in a navy, star filled blanket. I would stay for some time watching everything coming to a slow halt, doubling back and leaving what’s left to be done for another day.
As an adult, now of afraid of heights I miss gazing at the world from such a platform. I’m now content with a window framing a city. But oh to be in the country again, on a sturdy branch bidding goodnight to the sun. I miss it.