Author Information
Climbing
Sandra Márquez A01039643
So there you are with your messy hair, long t shirt, oversized pants you could fit in twice on them and a pale face that screams you need to see daylight as soon as possible. This is your first summer as an 18 year old, but don’t you get your high hopes because turning 18 wasn’t going to magically make your life more interesting. You get dressed, curl your lashes and straighten your brunette head and go right to your so called needed iced coffee at 11 AM that you particularly dislike, but you refuse to give up on the coffee trend.
Today’s afternoon looks like the ones out of an overrated chick-flick movie that makes you have unrealistic expectations on what Summer should look like, you know, pool, friends, beer, a cute guy, and a fantastic moment when the protagonist gets everything she ever wanted, even fireworks on the end. You are 18, your couple of friends are out of town so you sit alone beside the exaggeratedly enormous tree your mother’s mother has nurtured for the past years and that’s about the most interesting your day will get.
And about this tree, you used to be around this tree all the time, you remember this is the place that preserves your childhood memories of your mother crying out for help when you climbed and sit on the branches as if they were the best seats to see a show, except you’re surrounded by no one but the big green leaves that simulated an isolated jungle. You grow older though, so you stop climbing. Something brings you in front of this tree with your head held high, chin up, squeezing your eyes as if you spotted something unusual in the middle of your childhood jungle.
What if you go up there again? Something calls you to do so.
There you go, you hug the tree and start pushing your body and moving your legs. left first, then right, to gain the strength to reach the nearest branch. Couple of minutes pass and you finally settle in the most comfortable log found.
Carved in those branches are spelled out all your secrets and lies, the funny ones and the embarrassing ones you couldn’t tell anyone else from when you were 10, maybe 12. As your hands slightly touch each of those words smiles and chuckles burst while nostalgia kicks in. After hours looking at the horizon the tree’s seats provide there it was, the time you promised never to grow up was set in stone, or better said branch. You are face to face with your unfaithful promise and this can either leave you broken or make you stronger, so what is it going to be? Do you have to come back down? I mean do you really have to? In a heartbeat you’d say no because what’s the big deal on spending some time with Mr. Past? It’s comfortable and it’s safe and they know you better than no one else. You feel a relief, you’ve found a new place to call home, which meant shoes off, makeup off and prepare yourself for a relaxing time in company of- well, yourself and a pretty loaded baggage.
Not further than an hour the shakiness begins, and it’s not your nervous body revealing your shy personality, instead it’s the weak old branch you’ve been sitting on. You try to hold on to the nearest something you can reach and you struggle and you fight to stay up there. You move your head rapidly as in a cry for help with no success. The tree won and you were down, literally. You end up rejected by nature on the floor with these leaves in your head and a light headache you probably need to check on. You are pissed off you forgot to say goodbye to what you had, but it’s not even there anymore, and it’s okay. You shake off the crumbles left in your clothes and in your hair, now messy as it was before and your clothes with some rips your mother will definitely complain about.
Shaking off that wild trip down memory lane should make you realize that holding on to your past may not be the smartest move to continue to grow up, or maybe you just need to realize that tree can’t handle you like the old days.
