The Power of Testimony

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TOO NIMBLE TO DIE
I lay stretched out on the limbs of a beech tree so solid
I believed that even a tornado couldn’t shake it. Unlike the
tree, though, I was small and light. Years later I would be
glad that my thin frame and light bones made me quick on
my feet, able to scramble out of harm’s way. But back then,
all I knew was that while most of my friends would have
thought twice about climbing quite so high, I had no fear
of going as far and as fast as possible.
My parents’ home was four houses away, but this tree—​
standing in the middle of a small strip of land between the
end of the street and the railway line beyond—​ was mine.
At least that’s what I said to the bare branches that filtered
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