The O’l Pine
The o’l pine was the largest tree on the property, even testing the tops of the telephone poles. Obviously it’s not as big to me now as it was then, but the old pine tree is still a massive skyscraper standing tall and proud as if it had received some award. My cousin Kyle and I would spend days upon days in this tree. The sap, which could be mistaken for superglue, would be on us head to toe, ruining some clothes that our parents appreciated more than we did. In every scenario the tree was a landmark of safety. Little did I know the tree would leave a bigger mark on me than just a fond memory.
We were up in the tree as usual but this time was different, this there was no game, there were no aliens or outlaws to be killed that day. The summer day had taken its toll on us and we had lost. We both sat on opposite branches talking about our plans of taking over the world and the different weapons we would bring along our journey. I became slightly bored with this conversation and decided to climb higher.
All of my grandma’s endless “becarefuls” and “you’re to highs” went right out the window. Each branch that I passed was as if I was getting ever so close to the top of a mountain. Just then my foot slipped, the entire gravitational pull had zeroed in on me and my two sapped covered hands. I gained momentum and tried to swing to another side of the tree, to the larger branches but at no success, then CRACK! My one support of life had just broken underneath my finger tips. I soared through the air as a hawk does for a kill. The difference is I had no prey, I had no control, and I had no wings. I hit the ground and a white flash takes my vision for a few seconds. When I come to my senses I’m slowly crawling away from the tree and have a sensation that someone had just put a hot iron across my back. The tree that was our safe zone had attacked me. I survived the attack but it took fifteen stitches and a scar I still have but after days once my stitches were removed I was right back up the tree. Some moments I would brag and show people the branch that had broken and assist the story with the new scar.
We were up in the tree as usual but this time was different, this there was no game, there were no aliens or outlaws to be killed that day. The summer day had taken its toll on us and we had lost. We both sat on opposite branches talking about our plans of taking over the world and the different weapons we would bring along our journey. I became slightly bored with this conversation and decided to climb higher.
All of my grandma’s endless “becarefuls” and “you’re to highs” went right out the window. Each branch that I passed was as if I was getting ever so close to the top of a mountain. Just then my foot slipped, the entire gravitational pull had zeroed in on me and my two sapped covered hands. I gained momentum and tried to swing to another side of the tree, to the larger branches but at no success, then CRACK! My one support of life had just broken underneath my finger tips. I soared through the air as a hawk does for a kill. The difference is I had no prey, I had no control, and I had no wings. I hit the ground and a white flash takes my vision for a few seconds. When I come to my senses I’m slowly crawling away from the tree and have a sensation that someone had just put a hot iron across my back. The tree that was our safe zone had attacked me. I survived the attack but it took fifteen stitches and a scar I still have but after days once my stitches were removed I was right back up the tree. Some moments I would brag and show people the branch that had broken and assist the story with the new scar.
I love the line about the "becarefuls" and the "you're too highs".... Good story man.
ReplyDeleteI loved love LOVED climbing trees when I was little! I love the feeling you get when you finally reach the top and everything is all below you!
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