Up, Up and…

It’s been a year. Or, a year and a week since they first asked me, “Can you teach me to climb a tree?”

New House

I couldn’t, of course. Climbing a tree is something you have to figure out on your own. You have to take the branches in your own hands, put your own foot against the trunk of the tree and push off. You have to reach by yourself, pull yourself up between branches and twigs and buds and, eventually, leaves. You have to do it on your own, because if mom or dad or someone pushes you from below, you’re not really climbing.

And so, for a year, I’ve let them climb.

Climbing Trees

I’ve also let them get stuck. Oops?

And after a break from climbing after that debacle, I let them climb some more. Even when I read stories about cops being called for letting kids climb trees. Because climbing a tree is a right of passage, a beautiful joy of childhood. Climbing a tree is an escape. It is a fort. It is a house. It is a place to hide. It is everything, growing in your front yard, just waiting for you. For your brother. For your laughter. For your mom to get smacked in the face with a branch when she bends to get a better angle for a picture.

Climbing Trees

BigBrother wound up with a scratch and a bruise on his forehead last week. LittleBrother scratched his back trying to get down off of a bigger branch. I’m still waiting for a fall, a thud that hurts me as I watch it happen even though it’s not happening to me. Even though it is.

Climbing Trees

And maybe they won’t fall — singularly or plurally. Maybe, as per usual, my worrying is in vain. Maybe they won’t; maybe they’ll climb higher and higher and get braver and braver and learn more and more and finally reach that destination.

Climbing Trees

And maybe, really, that’s the basis of the fear in general. That by letting them climb and do and reach and pull and be, they’ll continue to climb up, up and away and out of my reach. I sit on the porch, sipping coffee I warmed up in the microwave and still isn’t warm enough to protect against the early spring breeze. I watch them and I know this will continue. If not trees then bikes or sports or college or careers or significant others or what have you. Forever.

Climbing Angry Birds

And maybe that’s okay.

3 replies on “Up, Up and…”

Climbing the tree in my backyard was totally a rite of passage in childhood. When I could finally do what my big brother had been doing for years. And then I spent many a summer day in that tree, usually with a book. Love that you are letting your boys discover the joy.

Aw, this is so true. Elise loves climbing trees and I’m so scared for her sometimes but still feel compelled to let her go as high as she can go (which thankfully isn’t that high.)

We had a small old orchard up the street when I was growing up- used to climb there and got poison ivy every year, but it was worth it. There was a beautiful maple I climbed on my way home from school in 5th and 6th grade. If I had a dress on, I always wore shorts underneath!
This brought back some great memories.

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