~ David J. Landers

I still remember that day. I can’t be sure of how old I was, or even whether it was in the springtime or the summer. What I do remember is the degree of humiliation and self-loathing I felt that light, sunny day.

I was the highest I had ever been up in the big tree that stood in my backyard. It always had seemed a tower unable to conquer, especially by the likes of me, but for one moment, I felt triumphant. It was as if I had taken an enormous step toward my eventual conquest of that particular tree and, consequently, my childhood. I remember my sister Sarah, and wife/girlfriend of the time, Katie, at the base of the tree, gaping up at me. I remember John climbing down from a different section, bouncing the last few branches and landing safely on the grass below. I remember looking out in all directions from my lookout ¾ of the way up the big maple. The view was breathtaking.

I could see for what seemed like miles from my very own little backyard. There was only one problem. I couldn’t get down. I stood there, hugging the smooth gray trunk of the tree and listening to Sarah, John, and Katie all call up to me. I had never noticed how grey this tree was. It wasn’t at all the "silver" that it derived its name from (Silver Maple). It was grey, just like my future seemed to be. I looked down and felt my stomach rise in terror.

It didn’t take long for everyone I knew to show up at the bottom of the tree. My mother showed up and added herself to the group beneath me. I could almost hear her through the thick swimming sound that blocked my ears. I imagined her saying "Oh! My poor baby!!" Just thinking about her calling me a baby infuriated me beyond what words can describe. I grew redder in the face, trying to find the guts it would take to complete that first step toward liberation.

Soon, my father entered the crowd of onlookers, with that "What the hell is wrong with you, kid?" look that I always seemed to perceive, even when that wasn’t what it was meant to say. Now everyone I knew was there to witness my darkest moment of petrified wimpiness.

So there I was, up in a tree. The entire circle of acquaintances from my vast eight-year life span gaped up at me. They were roaring at me about which branch I should step on with which leg. Calls of "Right leg down to that branch there, Dave!" and "If you loosen your grip around the trunk, you can rotate around the trunk to that thick branch on the other side, Dave!" seemed to come at me from all sides.

Not helping my chances very much, the wind also decided to kick in a little to add to the fun. I decided, at that moment, that the air was not a team player. I remember clearly feeling that if I loosened my grip at all, the devilish tree would fling me three backyards in either direction. Neither looked like places I wanted to be. The ground was where I wanted to be, but I obviously didn’t want to risk dying to get there. So there I stayed, up in the tree. It had me trapped.

I don’t know how long it was before I took the first step, but it seemed like an eternity. My head swam all the way down although, as I climbed further down, the drowning feeling decreased bit by bit. After much effort and even more hyperventilating, I reached solid ground. I recall feeling the cool grass between my fingers and kneeling on the ground, then lying there on my stomach, breathing the immaculate scent of fresh grass by my face. I looked back over at the tree, following with my eyes the path I must have taken to get to the dreaded spot I had. The tree towered over me even more than it had ever seemed to before and it grew evident that I would never conquer it. I returned to the scent of the grass, and I lay there, smiling. I knew what it must feel like to have returned from a long voyage at sea.