“I wish that I could smile, but then I look back at each receding mile.” –from I’m Sorry by Leon Stevens
I remember seeing my childhood home disappear behind the climbing tree. As my sister and I got older—and braver—we would climb higher through the prickly, sappy branches until reaching the point where you could feel it sway. We had built forts in it, each one a bit better than the last, but each with its own problems. The branche...