The Right Stuff

A child of eleven years of age is climbing down a tree. In the middle of his decent, he stops. He is still a good twenty-five feet from the ground. The north side of the tree has no limbs from this point down. “How brave am I?” he asked himself. Grabbing a hold of this one limb, he decides to hang there until he was afraid enough to seek safety. As the boy dangled from the branch, he thought of consequences for his actions. Broken ribs, bones or even death entered his mind. Strength leaving him, sweat pouring from his body. “This minute feels like twenty” he thought. With his grip slipping, he began to feel the pressure. Looking down did not help his nerves. The left arm gives out, leaving the child in a spin counter clockwise. “This was a bad idea!” Managing to hang on he rotates back. The right foot reaches for a limb. His right hand has nothing left. Air now separates the hand and the branch that it once was attached. His right foot makes contact with the branch it sought out. His left arm instinctively wraps around the trunk of the tree. As stiff as the right arm is, he forces this arm to do the same. Feeling as though his stomach and heart are both in his throat, he remains clamped to the tree. With the right foot supported he pulls his weight in the limbs direction. Slowly climbing down, he still feels as though there was no answer to the question. A question that plagues him to this day. “How brave am I?”