Last week the little boy I nanny took me to his tree house. The tree itself was more like 7 different trees all coming from one root system in the ground, which left a flat space in the center. The perfect place for a 5 year old to climb around without ever being too high.
I grew up on a farm and with that came an extensive childhood of adventuring; more specifically, tree climbing. Tree climbing was second nature to me. Like breathing. I could climb a tree before I knew how to swim or ride a bike. It was in my blood. I would climb as high as possible, find horizontal branches to nap on, swing from branch to branch, and drop from ridiculous heights to get out and do it all over again. It never mattered how raw my hands got or how many scratches my legs collected; still I climbed.
Over the years I grew to have very few tree climbing opportunities. College and jobs replaced climbing and adventuring. It wasn’t something I meant to have happen, but it did.
All that being said, you can imagine my joy at having this tree to explore. And at having my camera with me. I could have stayed there for hours. My insides felt so peaceful and warm; like there was a tiny light that had been lit inside me. It was like coming home after a very, very extended vacation. And just like riding a bike, I found myself climbing and exploring every branch of this tree system.
|an empty next sitting in one of the branches|
|this neighboring tree had been uprooted. Pretty powerful stuff.|
These days I find myself having 3 jobs, nannying being one of them, and barely any time to breathe let alone enjoy some “me” time. It’s nice to know though that now I have this warm place to go to on occasion. I always am realizing that I need to start finding the “me” time before I work myself into a knot with no way out. Because if I don’t take care of me, who will?