Now, in a quandary, or at least at a crossroads, with no markers, she said, "I'm really up a tree."
Her words brought back a picture. I remembered how, as a child, often I climbed up into the white Plumeria tree.
And from my fragrant perch, all people were little people, their burdens even smaller;
when friends or loves met, the laughter rang out and flew upward, as though to continue growing from those boughs. And when they parted, their smiles lingered on till each was out of sight.
All things seemed easier to understand above the ground -
and for all I know, this might still be so, even for any one only figuratively up a tree.