Oh to touch the sky

                I'm in search of the perfect tree. The criteria is simple – the first few branches ought to be close to the ground and the bark should be fairly smooth. The branches should gently expand to allow an adventurous 5-year-old to wedge her feet into the crevices so she can proceed upward.

                In short order, I'm looking for a suitable climbing tree.

                When I was young, there was a small grove of small trees between our house and my grandparents' house. My friends and I loved playing there because the trees offered a shady retreat as well as a great place to hide from the world.

                For hours, we'd wage war with our plastic army soldiers, dig holes and then line the holes with tin foil to make lakes. When we tired of playing in the dirt, we'd find a tree to climb and go as high as we could.

                I don't know what kind of trees grew in that stand, but there were enough branches in each tree to let us shimmy our way up at least 15 feet above the ground. We made more than our fair share of climbing mistakes, but, as time went by, we learned a few things.

                The first rule of successfully climbing a tree is making sure there are enough crevices and branches to use as foot and hand holds. The second is understanding that when you find a level, sturdy branch, it's time to stop, sit and dangle your feet in the open air.

                Once settled, I'd daydream about adventures I wanted to take and far-off lands I'd one day visit. Up there, on top of the world, I was a princess or what I wasn't most of the time, brave. Eventually we outgrew climbing trees, but memories of hours spent up in a tree always made me smile.

                When I became a mother, my sons loved nothing better than climbing trees, and they were much braver than their mother. They weren't satisfied until they climbed as high as they could, and nothing thrilled them better than swinging on a rope anchored firmly to a sturdy branch.

                So it was with great satisfaction I heard my granddaughter declare she was looking for a tree to climb. And like all former tree climbers, I began my search for the perfect tree for her to climb.

                That quest was harder than I thought it would be.

                First, the trees in newer neighborhoods are nothing more than saplings, and I didn't find any that could support the weight of a small child. Older trees in established neighborhoods have had all the lower branches trimmed away, and those with real promise were safeguarded behind formidable fences.

                I found myself constantly evaluating every tree I saw. They were either too tall, the trunks were too thick to climb up or the branches were too spindly. Finally I found a tree for her to climb, but, unfortunately, there was a huge mound of ants at the base of the tree, and neither one of us wanted to risk the bites.

                My granddaughter was disappointed, but her parents came to the rescue. Early one Saturday morning, they headed to Brazos Bend State Park where there are hundreds of majestic trees with low-to-the-ground branches.

                Within minutes, my son, his daughter and his young son were up in the branches while mom, eight months pregnant, remained on the ground, cheering her family on to greater heights.

                When I heard my phone beep with a picture of them snuggled in the branches of a tree, I smiled, the tears forming in my eyes because, thanks to their parents, my grandchildren discovered a wonderful secret.  

                They knew what it felt like to touch the sky.

This column was originally published in The Fort Bend Herald.