I found myself stuck in a tree.
Cold and wet. Rain dripping on my head.
Hair matted against my face like sticky icicles.
I was jogging. Huffing and puffing through the park.
I leapt over shimmering puddles on the footpath.
My warm rosy cheeks welcomed the light drizzle.
But as the rain began to pour from the sky and the colours of the park faded into a dull grey haze, I found a patch of dry grass under a tree and I waited. I waited and waited.
As I think back now, I’m not sure what possessed me, but I thought it’d be really cool to climb the tree. Relieve my boredom? Better view perhaps? Maybe I’ll stumble upon some other critter also waiting for the rain to stop?
So there I sat. Three branches up. Swaying in the breeze.
The last branch notch filled up with water, became too slippery and I couldn’t get a proper grip to get back down. I felt like such a retard. Just me and my two braincells.
Birds flew by and snickered. Ants and caterpillars were showing off. And the tree groaned in burdensome displeasure. In the end I had to take off my jacket, wedge it into the footing and make my way down in an inelegant tangle of legs and arms. I felt like such an island girl after that.