I've had a bad week, and I'm feeling nostalgic

  When I was younger, I loved to climb trees.

  And one night, I had a dream that I had climbed my favorite tree, a small one with strong branches in front of my apartment complex. I had made it all the way to the top, and I could see my little brother from the bottom, trying to follow even though he was too tiny.

  Everything felt so much bigger back then. An indescribable feeling of hope washed over my tiny mind as a balanced myself with the thin tip of the crown. At that moment I made it a mission to climb trees for the rest of my life. A promise for my older self, to keep a hold of this feeling.   

  My mom hollered at me from our tiny porch, “Climb down a bit! It’s dangerous up that high!”.

  Looking back on it now, it feels more like a memory than a dream. The grass was a gorgeous green, and the path up the branches was so clear. The wind cleared my mind as it kissed my face. But however much joy I felt in that moment at the top, I climbed down midway. I lived a lot for my parents back then, disguised as a responsible character. I never asked for help. I was their strong daughter who fought back, played sports, and climbed trees. 

  For a while, I kept that promise to myself. Whenever there was a tree that was climbable, I would climb it. Specifically at my brother's baseball games. Specifically, this one memory, climbing this one tree. The branches were huge, and I could lie down on them if I wanted. I was wearing shorts that were a bit too small for me, and a hideous pink shirt that was tight on my arms. This group of kids was off playing to the side as I climbed, and they kept taking glances at me.

  I tried to ignore it, I was the strong daughter that fought back, played sports, climbed trees, and didn’t care what anyone else thought about me. I climbed higher, trying to get out of their line of sight. I reached for the trunk above, a little higher than all the last.

 Standing on my tiptoes, I reached and reached. But I wouldn’t make it. I wouldn’t make it to the top, and to be honest, was too scared to. From this height, all I could see was the rough landing below. The peering eyes of watchers. And the sky that was so blue, it felt fake and soured. And on that day, I promised I would not be watched again.

  Thinking now, in my mixed world of bright green grass, a suffocating sky, loving wind, and self-consciousness, I find it unfair. Unfair that my success felt like a dream I wait to come back to, and my failure a memory that has become a pattern. The eyes of my brother, and mother, and peers, and mine are too much to bear. 

I am not seen at the trunk of the tree, so I do not climb.

  - Boomerang <3