A view of the woods across the street from my childhood home
Life would be simpler if everyone would just go climb a tree. I had such a tree when I was growing up. It was a pine tree, to be exact. It wasn’t too tall, and it wasn’t too short. The branches were spaced just right for climbing, and I could see the whole neighborhood from my perch. I hugged My Tree, as I came to call it, partly to keep from falling but mostly because I loved the piney scent that clung to my hair and clothes for hours. Later in life, in my search for a house, I began with the land that contained My Tree. I saw a For Sale sign there and became excited. A week later, I discovered that the whole property had been sold – house, tree, woods, everything -- and my real estate balloon burst wide open. It was only a matter of time before bulldozers would come to tear down most of the forest to make room for not one but two, million dollar houses. House hunting can be heart breaking, and I can certainly cross those two houses off my list. After six declined offers and one failed contract, I wished I could build a My Tree house and live there instead. I’ve enjoyed many trees over the years. There was the one with the scarred trunk that looked like a bearded man’s face – the Old Man and the Tree, I used to call it -- until it became diseased and had to be cut down. Its stump has retained its usefulness as a favorite spot for chipmunks and squirrels. Then, there is the cherry blossom tree in front of my office window, where hummingbirds land to cool off in the heat of the day. But that particular tree of my youth was a noble teacher, and I hope I have learned its lessons well: A change in perspective is good. Remember to hold on tight the higher one climbs. And eventually, it is time to come back down, to the land where real estate deals are sawed. Sarah Rivera is a freelance writer who lives in Atlanta, Georgia. She relies heavily on chocolate and a sense of humor.