When Beth could Climb Trees
As I stand on the feeble, wood bridge beneath the mulberry tree, mulberries start to drop. I glare at Beth, who is rattling the branches. Examining the purple spots in my hair while Beth shimmies down the tree trunk.
“Hey what did ya do that for?” Beth stumbles over to me . Tripping in the clear, busy stream.
“Mulberries, see!” She kneels to the forest floor and picks one up. Then she pops it into her  mouth.
“Beth, ew.” I whine.
“It’s just dirt, Ames.” She eats another. “Want one?”
“I’ll pass, I shake my head fervently.

Beth was always doing strange things. Instead of using the bag holder on the back of her bike as it is supposed to be, she used it to tote her young cousins. Always on the move, always dirt under her fingernails, and whenever possible, in a tree. And then there’s me. I’m a more stationary girl. My finger nails are always clean and  painted. Avoiding climbing was one of my specialties. Sometimes I wonder how we’re even friends. But hey, I guess opposites attract.
“Come on, can we please just go back?" I look to the ground to find Beth with her brown hair hanging around her shoulders. Sitting with a full basket of mulberries
“Fine.” She sighed. Standing up she tries to brush off her now muddy blue jeans and plain tee shirt.

As we walk back to her house, we spot something glimmer underneath the summer sun.
“What in the world is that?” Beth’s curious nature took over as she prances through the field,  me chasing after her. She stands up abruptly. What we saw glimmer was dangling from her hand.
“What is it?” I shout through the seemingly endless, green, field and I slow to a walk as I approach. Beth has got an enormous smile on her face and in her hand I see a mud- caked, knotted necklace in her hand.
“I lost this last summer!” She snaps it open and I find that it’s a locket. The tiny picture reveals a young Beth dangling from a tree. Pulling the knots out and brushing away the dirt, she  clips it around my neck.
“Here, I want you to have it.”
And without a word she resumes the walk back home.

We arrive at Beth’s house in a matter of minutes and find her mother digging a large trench in their picturesque backyard.
“Hey mom! Whatcha up to?” Beth asks breezily.
“Oh, ya know, digging.” Panting, her mother looks up.
“Digging what?”
“That fish pond we talked about.”
Beth’s face lit up as she picked up a hand trowel. A fraction of the size of the large shovel her mother leaned against. As I check my phone I realize with disappointment I have to go home. Alerting my best friend; she drops her hand trowel and offers to walk me home.

The path leading to my home widens as we approach the driveway. Bark! Bark! Bark! My dog, Speaker, barrels down the driveway. Nails clicking on the cracked black cement.
“Hi Speaker! Hey boy!”
Bending over to pat the beagles head. Bark! He drops a ball at Beth’s feet. Ignoring the dog slobber on the ball, she launches it across the yard, getting caught in a tree.
“I’ll get it!” She springs into a run.
Headed for the weak tree with the ball stuck high in the branches.

“Beth you’re gonna fall. Get down!” I shout into the leaves.
Beth is hardly visible.
“Almost got it.” She yells to the ground. Stretching her arm and putting a foot on the next branch. SNAP!

I hear a loud shriek. Beth is falling, her brown hair fluttering as she falls through the air.  A branch dangling precariously from the tree. Its brown wood splintering at the end. Sharper than knives. THUD! Landing feet first, Beth’s legs crumple underneath her from the force. On the grass is a motionless Beth, too stunned to cry, speak, move. Face whiter than a ghost’s, and hands shaking, she is in shock. My vision blurs as I realize I’m crying. Wind moves the hair off of my shoulders and the dangling branch from the trunk.

The hanging branch falls, colliding with others as it goes. Another loud thud. A second high pitched scream erupts from Beth’s lips, as she awakes from her shock.
“MOM! CALL 911!” Emerging from the house is my mom. Phone already pressed to her ear. The branch landed on Beth’s already broken legs. Then red lights. Blue lights. Sirens. Beth is pulled from under the fallen branch, hoisted onto a gurney, and into an ambulance with blue and red flashing lights.

The phone rings four times before Beth’s mother answers.
“Hello?”
“Hi, Ms. Simon” I respond. My fear evident in my voice.
“What’s wrong?”
“Beth fell out of a tree, she’s on her way to the hospital” Words tumble from my mouth in rapid succession. A gasp and a click. Gone.
“Mom, let’s go!” I yell as I scramble into the passenger side of the car, my mom in the driver’s.

Circling the parking lot to find a space, one opens up. Sun reflects off the windows of the hospital. The doors to the hospital open as we approach, and timidly I ask the nurse at the desk where Beth is.
“Room 753, floor five.” Chewing her gum loudly the nurse in purple scrubs answers me, annoyed.
“Thank you.” I add as I walk away.
Beth’s mother is already in the room when we arrive. She turns at the sound of the door. A clear tube pumping anesthesia to keep Beth from the pain in her legs. Silence thick in the air as we all sit. Tick. Tick. Tick. Minutes pass, and another, and another. So many I stop counting.

Many minutes more and a doctor comes in, clipboard in hand. His white coat swishes behind him.
“Well, judging from her X-Rays, there is no way we can save her legs.”
A tear rolls down my cheek and I grasp the locket. I speak before I can register the thought in my brain.
“So, she can’t climb trees anymore?” The doctor stared at Beth.
“As I said before, she won’t be able to walk, let alone climb trees.” The doctor turned to me. “I’m sorry, her tree climbing days are over.”

One Year Later

The wheelchair squeaks as I push Beth across the lush green grass to the fish pond.
We sit and watch the little orange and white fish swim about with ease. A tear rolls down Beth’s cheek. It was today, last year she lost her ability to move her legs. Her eyes flash to the fish again. Beth used to be able to swim. Beth used to be able to walk. Beth used to be able to climb even. But now, instead of playing, climbing, or eating mulberries in the woods, we sit in front of the clear water fish pond. No one will ever see her in a tree again. Now, we reminisce about the time  Beth could climb trees.