As a kid, I would be outside most of the time. There was a tree in my backyard that wasn't too tall, nor too thin and had just enough branches that my sister and I could climb it with ease.

 I liked that tree. The tree gave me the gift of being closer to the sky. To be honest as a kid I had an obsession with flying and that tree was the closest thing I had to it. It helped not being as small as I felt. My parents never enjoyed the fact that I climbed the tree, but the view and cold winds would always manage to carry me up to the same branch.

This was my daily schedule until I had grown forgotten about the tree and stopped climbing. When the time came years later that I had to move away and say goodbye to everything. I realized I haven't felt the comfort and embrace of that tree in years. I decided to climb it one last time. The fall winds just made it more nostalgic. Every arm I gripped was a lost memory. Finally, I had reached that one branch, and I sat down. It was a lot lower than I had remembered and I no longer had the view I used as the other tree across had grown too big to let me look through. I felt slightly disappointed, but the big gush of wind consoled me. I could hear the crackling of the delicate brown leaves of the tree and the wind was so powerful I felt like I was going through the air, ready to set flight. 

But the crackling not only belonged to the leaves but also the branch I had set myself on. The thought of me setting flight was the complete opposite.

I 

   was 

          going 

                    down.

My body thumped on the floor, not even close to how delicate the leaves next to me flowed through.

Air had been completely knocked out of my body but all I could do was laugh with tears forming up in my eyes. To this day I still don't know if it was out of sadness or because I literally fell out of a tree.

I had grown too big for the tree and it was about time I said goodbye to it, those few seconds of flight, was a farewell gift.