In the summer when I was a child,
I would climb trees.
I would pick the most complicated tree with my brother,
one with an entanglement and maze of branches,
and he would point at the tallest branch.
He usually said that,
while giving me a nudge on the shoulder.
Barefoot, I’d crunch my way through the grass with calloused feet,
scaling the tree above.
And just for a moment,
I’d wait until a bead of sweat made its way down my cheek or nose –
just to feel the coolness that comes with the movement of conquering a giant.