I Could Smell the Sky
    
My sweaty fingers slipped on the bark, the tree swaying in the wind.
    
“Keep going, Nick!”
    
“Don’t fall!”
    
My friends’ laughs and shouts from below did little to comfort me. Why had I consented to climb this tree in the first place? From the ground it had looked tall, but nothing I couldn’t manage. But now, when I looked down where my friends were just small blotches against the green field, I could very clearly imagine myself losing my grip and hitting the ground with a smack--all for a $15 bet. I rested a bit, pushing my back against the trunk and taking several breaths to steady myself.
    
That’s when instead of looking down at my feet, I looked up and out and saw--well, it seemed like the whole world, laid out like a patchwork blanket, rivers stitching neat squares of fields together and little matchbox cars trundling across black roads. Grinning, I ignored the noise from my friends below and brushed myself off. Eagerly I climbed, up and up into the blue sky and away from the ground. Until finally I didn’t dare go any higher into the thinning branches.
    
And I wasn’t afraid anymore because I could see for miles, and smell the wind, and feel the coolness of the bark at my fingertips. It was a magnificent feeling, to be so far above the ground. Until I looked down. Whoa. I tightly gripped a swaying branch. The trunk seemed to stretch out a mile underneath me. My friends were just tiny dots in my vision. This was crazy. I could die. But . . . that’s why they call it “daredevil,” isn’t it?
    
I carefully climbed down, step by step, until my feet were firmly planted on the ground.
    
“That was sick, man!”
    
“Way to go Nick!”
    
I suppressed a smile. That was stupid. That was awesome. That was so high, I thought I might touch the sky. But of course not, I thought, looking up at the silhouette of the tree. It wasn’t tall enough. I had to find another, taller, tree, and keep climbing.