Sometimes, the struggle makes an interesting story.
I sat squatted down under the great oak tree, soaking wet. Water dripped from my long dark hair, wetting my crossed arms beneath it. My shirt stuck to the skin and my shoes squelched as I rocked back and forth.
My friend also sat squatted next to me. The two of us often went for long walks like this, into the grasslands where hardly anyone was around. A thunderstorm rolled over today, descending in a matter of a few moments. The two of us sprinted to the nearest shelter, but we had to run in the rain for quite some time. As we ran, my friend slipped and fell onto the muddy trail.
She had left her clothes out in the grass, beyond the tree’s refuge, to wash the mud off. Her parents wouldn’t be happy to see her muddy like that, even though they were both farmers. She was pulling at her hair, squeezing the water out of the silky strands.
I stared beyond the tree’s shade. I could hear the heavy rain pounding on the leaves above us. But the great oak’s canopy let not a single drop of rain drip onto the two little girls who sought refuge under its branches. Though the wind occasionally brought the rain under the tree’s great leaves, misting our faces with its fresh moisture.
I didn’t move much, except for the back and forth rocking on my heels. We were both tired from running. I let the water drip down to the ground beneath me. My friend paused her grooming and watched over me.
“Aren’t you going to dry yourself off?”
“It doesn’t bother me that much.”
She shrugged. “I don’t mind getting wet either. But it picks the dirt off your hair.” She pulled at her hair again. “Helps you wash it off.”
Another droplet hit my arm and found its way to the ground. “It’ll wash off whether or not I do anything.”
“I suppose.” She stood up and walked out barefooted to retrieve her clothes. I stayed where I was, next to her shoes, listening.
My friend stood in the rain, holding up her clothes to check if they were clean. Satisfied, she wrung them once to get rid of the excess. But instead of retreating back to shelter, she stayed still. Stretching out her arms, she tilted her head to the sky, letting the storm overwhelm her. I watched as she posed in the rain; her naked body distinctly contrasted by the tallgrass and distant mountains.
She eventually turned around, smiling. “The rain is beautiful, isn’t it?”
“Ah.” I agreed, smiling a bit. She walked back under the tree’s shade and shook her head. Her silk hair elegantly sprinkled the rainwater into the air.
“The rain feels nice when you don’t have your clothes in the way.”
I stood up and stretched. “Maybe we should have stripped instead of dashing our hearts out to get here.”
She laughed, squeezing her clothes dry. “No, people are less likely to see us here. Plus, I’ve always wanted to come here while it was raining.”
“Why so?”
My friend pointed up at the tree branches above us. I looked up and saw nothing but the dancing leaves as the wind thrashed against them.
“What is it?”
She smiled. “Let’s climb the tree. I promised I would teach you eventually.”
I blinked. “Now?” As I spoke, thunder rumbled in the distance. “Isn’t it dangerous?”
“Not really.” She slipped into her pants. “As long as you hold on tight and grab secure leverages.”
“But, it’s thundering. Plus it’s windy.”
“The lightning is far away. And the wind shouldn’t be strong enough to blow you off the tree if you hold on tight enough.”
My friend hastily slipped on her drenched shirt and ran to the trunk of the tree. At the base, she circled the tree for a few moments. Eventually, she glanced back at me, smiling with an expression that beckoned me to watch her.
Crouching for a brief moment, she leapt up to grab a short stump that jutted out from the side of the tree. She used the stump to pull herself up, digging her bare feet into the rough bark. Then, she reached for another jutting stump that was perfectly placed close enough for her to grab.
She quickly scaled up the side of the tree like this, before she finally reached one of its lowest branches. Hoisting herself up, she saddled herself on the thick branch and looked back down at me, waving.
“See, it isn’t that hard! This tree is pretty easy to climb!”
I slowly approached the base where she had stood. Hesitating, looked up at the first stump she had grabbed.
“Take off your shoes,” she called from above. “It’s easier with your bare feet.”
“Wouldn’t it hurt?”
“Maybe a little, but not that much. Better than the chance of slipping and falling.”
Reluctantly, I slipped out of my shoes and looked back up. Raising my arms above my head, I took a half-hearted leap up at the stump and caught a handful of air.
“Lower your arms to your sides! You need to put your whole body into the jump!”
I listened and took a great leap, thrusting my small body up into the air and grabbing the stump with both hands. I hung there, swinging side to side. My legs pedalled the air wildly as I let out a panicked gasp.
“Get your feet onto the bark!” She shouted words of encouragement. She had to repeat herself a few times before I came to my senses and hugged the trunk of the tree with my legs. I stayed like that for a few moments, looking like a fool, clinging desperately to the tree.
“Good! Now pull yourself up! You need to get a little higher so that you can reach for the next stump!”
I followed her instructions, wiggling up the tree with my thighs hugging closely to the tree. Several times, I stopped to reach for the next stump, realizing I still needed to climb a little higher before I could reach it. Each time I did so, I took a glance down and held my breath, stopping my ascent.
“Just keep going forward! Don’t look down until you’ve reached the top!”
I shut my eyes tightly. I was hugging the tree so tightly that I was gasping for breath. My friend watched patiently from above, allowing me the time to compose myself.
“Lighten up a bit,” she spoke softly, her voice almost drowned out by the rain. “You won’t get anywhere if you cling on too tightly.”
I took a few deep breaths, letting my shoulders relax. Tilting my head up, I opened my eyes again. I stared at the next stump and continued to scale up the tree. Slowly, at first, as I was still rigidly clinging my legs to the trunk. Then, I eventually loosened up and let my feet do more of the grappling. Once I was high enough, I reached out to the next stump and bumped it with my knuckles. My long, lanky hands easily reached it.
After repeating this a few times, I got the hang of it. I started climbing up the tree as if I was walking on all fours. It turned out that the tree trunk slouched away as I climbed higher, making the side of the tree less steep and easier to climb.
Once I reached the branch, my friend stretched down a hand for me to grab. Pulling me up, I wrapped my thighs around the branch, shut my eyes again, and took a deep breath. She put both of her hands on my shoulders.
“See? It wasn’t that hard once you got past the first part.” She winked. “I picked out a pretty easy spot to climb.”
“Yeah,” I heaved, opening my eyes to rub my legs, scratched by the bark. I saw how high up we were from the ground and flinched. Thankfully, my friend had a tight grip on my shoulders already.
“Take a good look,” she said, drawing me closer. “I wanted you to climb up with me so that I could help you conquer your fear of heights.”
Out of fear, I reached out and grabbed her by the shoulders. But I kept looking down. She pulled me into a hug, her chest pressed up against mine, and held me still for a few minutes. My eyes blinked back and forth frantically for the first minute, then I loosened up as I realized there was no danger of falling. I could feel my friend’s steady heartbeat against mine, and I eventually matched her pace.
Once she sensed my composure, she spoke again. “Look at what you’re able to notice when you’re this high up.”
I nodded, my hair rubbing against her face.
She smiled, letting go with one hand and gesturing out in front of me. “Now look beyond the ground. Over the horizon.” I looked up and held my breath again. But this time, I was filled with awe as I gazed through the leaves and out over the countryside. The sight was sublime, seeing the vast grasslands dwarfed by the fog of the rain.
My friend swung her leg around the branch to sit straight forward on the branch. She encouraged me to do the same, stabilizing me as I tensely lifted my leg around and in front of me.
She helped me rub the scratches on my legs. “Don’t worry about them. It’s because you clung too tightly to the bark.” I looked down and saw that, in contrast to mine, her thighs were not scratched.
“Next time, it won’t be as bad,” she promised. “I’ll be there as well.”
We sat side by side, listening to the rain until the storm died away.
I was thankful for her; what she did that day. The moment we shared together was one I would never forget. Years after she had moved away to the city with her family, I still remember the moment better than anything else. Even more than moving to my first high school. My marriage. My first child.
The struggle I had that day was what made it the most memorable. The very first time I ventured out of my comfort zone. After that experience, I grew more daring to break my boundaries. Leave my home. And meet my true lover. Once my husband and I migrated to the city as well, I yearned to be with her once again. For the next few years, the two of us asked each of our new co-workers whether they knew of the girl with the silky hair. I wanted to find her, and relive the experience once again.