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definitely worth chasing after。
This kite looked lucky to me。 It wasn't anything fancy； just an old…fashioned diamond with
blue and yellow stripes。 But it stuttered along in a friendly
way； and when it dive…bombed； it seemed to do so from exhaustion as opposed to spite。
Ornery kites dive…bomb out of spite。 They never get
exhausted because they won't stay up long enough to poop out。 Thirty feet up they just sort
of smirk at you and crash for the fun of it。
……… Page 17………
So Champ and I ran up to Collier Street； and after scouting out the road； Champ started
barking at the sycamore tree。 I looked up and spotted it；
too； flashing blue and yellow through the branches。
It was a long ways up； but I thought I'd give it a shot。 I shinnied up the trunk； took a shortcut
across the slide； and started climbing。 Champ kept a
good eye on me； barking me along； and soon I was higher than I'd ever been。 But still the
kite seemed forever away。
Then below me I noticed Bryce ing around the corner and through the vacant lot。 And I
could tell from the way he was looking up that this was
his kite。
What a lucky； lucky kite this was turning out to be！
“Can you climb that high？” he called up to me。
“Sure！” I called back。 And up； up； up I went！
The branches were strong； with just the right amount of intersections to make climbing easy。
And the higher I got； the more amazed I was by the
view。 I'd never seen a view like that！ It was like being in an airplane above all the rooftops；
above the other trees。 Above the world！
Then I looked down。 Down at Bryce。 And suddenly I got dizzy and weak in the knees。 I was
miles off the ground！ Bryce shouted； “Can you reach
it？”
I caught my breath and managed to call down； “No problem！” then forced myself to
concentrate on those blue and yellow stripes； to focus on them
and only them as I shinnied up； up； up。 Finally I touched it； I grasped it； I had the kite in my
hand！
But the string was tangled in the branches above and I couldn't seem to pull it free。 Bryce
called； “Break the string！” and somehow I managed to
do just that。
When I had the kite free； I needed a minute to rest。 To recover before starting down。 So
instead of looking at the ground below me； I held on tight
and looked out。 Out across the rooftops。
That's when the fear of being up so high began to lift； and in its place came the most
amazing feeling that I was flying。 Just soaring above the
earth； sailing among the clouds。
Then I began to notice how wonderful the breeze smelled。 It smelled like … sunshine。 Like
sunshine and wild grass and pomegranates and rain！ I
couldn't stop breathing it in； filling my lungs again and again with the sweetest smell I'd ever
known。
Bryce called up； “Are you stuck？” which brought me down to earth。 Carefully I backed up；
prized stripes in hand； and as I worked my way down； I
could see Bryce circling the tree； watching me to make sure I was okay。
By the time I hit the slide； the heady feeling I'd had in the tree was changing into the heady
realization that Bryce and I were alone。
Alone！
My heart was positively racing as I held the kite out to him。 But before he could take it；
Champ nudged me from behind and I could feel his cold；
wet nose against my skin。
Against my skin？！
I grabbed my jeans in back； and that's when I realized the seat of my pants was ripped wide
open。
Bryce laughed a little nervous laugh； so I could tell he knew； and for once mine were the
cheeks that were beet red。 He took his kite and ran off；
leaving me to inspect the damage。
I did eventually get over the embarrassment of my jeans； but I never got over the view。 I kept
thinking of what it felt like to be up so high in that tree。
I wanted to see it； to feel it； again。 And again。
……… Page 18………
It wasn't long before I wasn't afraid of being up so high and found the spot that became my
spot。 I could sit there for hours； just looking out at the
world。 Sunsets were amazing。 Some days they'd be purple and pink； some days they'd be a
blazing orange； setting fire to clouds across the
horizon。
It was on a day like that when my father's notion of the whole being greater than the sum of
its parts moved from my head to my heart。 The view
from my sycamore was more than rooftops and clouds and wind and colors bined。
It was magic。
And I started marveling at how I was feeling both humble and majestic。 How was that
possible？ How could I be so full of peace and full of
wonder？ How could this simple tree make me feel so plex？ So alive。
I went up the tree every chance I got。 And in junior high that became almost every day
because the bus to our school picks up on Collier Street；
right in front of the sycamore tree。
At first I just wanted to see how high I could get before the bus pulled up； but before long I
was leaving the house early so I could get clear up to
my spot to see the sun rise； or the birds flutter about； or just the other kids converge on the
curb。
I tried to convince the kids at the bus stop to climb up with me； even a little ways； but all of
them said they didn't want to get dirty。 Turn down a
chance to feel magic for fear of a little dirt？ I couldn't believe it。
I'd never told my mother about climbing the tree。 Being the truly sensible adult that she is；
she would have told me it was too dangerous。 My
brothers； being brothers； wouldn't have cared。
That left my father。 The one person I knew would understand。 Still； I was afraid to tell him。
He'd tell my mother and pretty soon they'd insist that I
stop。 So I kept quiet； kept climbing； and felt a somewhat lonely joy as I looked out over the
world。
Then a few months ago I found myself talking to the tree。 An entire conversation； just me and
a tree。 And on the climb down I felt like crying。 Why
didn't I have someone real to talk to？