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re tree was God's gift to our little corner of the universe。
Back in the third and fourth grades she used to clown around with her brothers in the
branches or peel big chunks of bark off so they could slide
down the crook in its trunk。 It seemed like they were playing in it whenever my mom took us
somewhere in the car。 Juli'd be swinging from the
branches; ready to fall and break every bone in her body; while we were waiting at the
stoplight; and my mom would shake her head and say; “Don't
you ever climb that tree like that; do you hear me; Bryce? I never want to see you doing that!
You either; Lyta。 That is much too dangerous。”
My sister would roll her eyes and say; “As if;” while I'd slump beneath the window and pray
for the light to change before Juli squealed my name
for the world to hear。
I did try to climb it once in the fifth grade。 It was the day after Juli had rescued my kite from
its mutant toy…eating foliage。 She climbed miles up to
get my kite; and when she came down; she was actually very cool about it。 She didn't hold
my kite hostage and stick her lips out like I was afraid
she might。 She just handed it over and then backed away。
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I was relieved; but I also felt like a weenie。 When I'd seen where my kite was trapped; I was
sure it was a goner。 Not Juli。 She scrambled up and
got it down in no time。 Man; it was embarrassing。
So I made a mental picture of how high she'd climbed; and the next day I set off to outdo her
by at least two branches。 I made it past the crook; up
a few limbs; and then — just to see how I was doing — I looked down。
Mis…take! It felt like I was on top of th
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