There’s a tree near the side of my house that I used to climb a lot.
Recently a branch fell off of it, making it harder to climb but I still go up there to escape whatever I’m feeling.
The tree is nothing poetic or particularly peaceful, I’ve been cut by it, I’ve fallen off of it, I once got stung by a bee in it, but I still climb it to escape.
Not because I enjoy the painful memories surrounding it, but because I enjoy thinking that there is a part of me forever with it.
I carved my name up by the branch I sit on in hopes that someday when a different family lives in my house, a kid that needs solace from their chaotic world will climb it and find that someone else found solace there.