Today I look at the lowest branch above my head. It is too high for me.

This same limb would not have hindered me. I would have jumped, twisted, pulled myself up onto a branch, looking up. Looking up to see where I would put my arms and legs next.

Today, I looked up and didn’t jump. My arms remained by my sides.

Will I no longer peer from a secret perch, be hidden by leaves, look up, look out from sturdy branches? Seeing. Imagining.

I did not climb a tree today. But maybe another day I will reach my arms overhead, pull myself up, enjoy rough bark graze gently against my skin as branches beckon me.