The tree stood in a wooded area behind our house. Its trunk was rough but sturdy, and its branches seemed to expand beyond the width of the sky. Its first fork was positioned close enough to the ground to allow me a handhold on either side, and this made it perfect for climbing. As a kid, I'd insert one small, canvas-covered foot in the middle of that fork, and heave myself up off the ground. Per instructions from my Dad, I rarely looked down, but instead climbed with my eyes towards the heavens, always anticipating my next foothold.
I haven't climbed a tree in years. However, the lessons I learned from my Dad in regard to climbing have served me well. As an adult, I continue to look for footholds that will allow me to move in the direction I need to go. Once found, I propel myself forward by seeking support from my family and friends. And I seldom look down, choosing instead to fix my gaze upon the expansive firmament above.
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