The Casey Chronicles: The Day I Tried to Climb a Tree

I have never been a coordinated or agile girl; especially when it came climbing things.  I think my adept skill at falling down validates my healthy fear of heights.  I didn’t know how to climb trees and frankly I was quite content with that. That is until I met Casey.  This young lady could climb trees like a squirrel.  It did not matter how tall or limbless it was, give her a few minutes to work out a strategy and she would make it to the top.  I, on the other hand preferred to stay with both feet on the ground.

Whenever we had spare time we tried to play hide and seek.  This can be rather challenging with only two people, so much of our time was spent in preparation for when we would have enough people to play.  This time was mainly Andrea boot camp.  It was her goal to get me up a tree, which afforded better hiding places.  So one day we were out in her yard and I decided I was going to make it happen.  I walked straight up to the tallest tree in her yard (I’m an idealist) and began to try and climb it.  She just stood back and laughed at me.  This tree was not only the tallest but it had no branches or knots below ten feet.  As I am not at least eight feet tall, this was a rather unrealistic goal. 

I do not enjoy failure.  In fact I am sure most people don’t either.  However, when I am unable to meet my goal, often I am so discouraged that I just give up.  This poses a huge problem in the life of a dreamer.  If you aspire to reach the stars you will fail when you just try to reach out and grab them.  You have to break down what you want and find out the most basic steps to get you there. 

So after one minute of failed determination, I was ready to throw in the towel.  I would never be able to climb a tree.  I am a person and people are meant to walk on the ground, not in trees.  Casey must have squirrel blood somewhere in her family.  I turned back to her and told her that I couldn’t do it.  With a huge sigh of exasperation she told me of course I could.  I wanted to argue; in fact I’m sure I did.  There was no circumstance that I could think of that would get me up that tree.  She rolled her eyes at me and dragged me over to another tree.  This tree was short, nobly and covered with branches.  Doubt still coursed through me but she promised me cookies and I love cookies, so I grudgingly told her I would try again.  Foot by foot she told me where to step and what to grab on to.  It was very difficult.  I slid several times.  I kept telling her I was done and I couldn’t do it.  I’m pretty sure at this point she came outside with the cookies and started eating them in front of me.  As sweet and kind as she was, she did have a splash of spitefulness; though it was this spite that got me up my first tree. 

That night I went home scratched and sore from all my attempts.  I walked away having conquered a goal.  I didn’t realize then the life application connected with climbing a tree, I was just happy to have a new hiding spot.  Looking back now I believe that helped me learn that I cannot just give up on my dreams because they seem too far out of my reach.   Despite the obstacles that loom above me, I just have to take it one foot at a time. 

The Casey Chronicles: The Girl Who Called me Andy

                Growing up, I always wanted a nickname.  I guess I thought it would be super cool to have an alias and when I was younger, I really wanted to be a cool kid.  So one day in fourth grade I started signing my papers, Andy.  I think my teacher and my parents recognized it for what it was, a ploy for attention.  Needless to say, they continued to call me by my actual name. 

                The other kids in my class, the ones who were not my friends, thought it was stupid.  They even emphatically told me that Andy was a boy’s name.  It was a slam to my ego, but I wasn’t quite ready to accept defeat.  To return to my given name so quickly would give them too much power.  It would show them what they already knew, that I was strange and easily conquered; only now they would know I knew it too.  It was very much like the time they ridiculed me for wearing a hat to school.  While it didn’t take me long to realize just how odd this two-in-one hat did actually look, I continued to wear it out of spite.  I couldn’t let them see how much their opinion really mattered.

                I’m sure none of them had ever been the odd one out.  The worst part is there is no way out; it’s a vicious cycle.  You try to fit in when you were never meant to and they despise you for it.  So you try harder, thinking if you could just be more like them, or tell enough jokes, or wear the right clothes, they might change their mind.  Little do you know that no matter how funny you are, or how in style, they’ve already decided that everything about you is wrong.  These were the kids who made you cry every day when you got home; who made you wish you could be likeable, normal. 

                Enter Casey, an independent spirit.  The most confident and decided fourth grader there ever was.  She was cool.  The other kids thought she was funny, invited her to sleepovers, and sat with her at lunch.  They would not have mocked her for wearing a silly looking hat.  It wasn’t because her family was  wealthy, or she was beautiful (which she was), it was because she accepted herself regardless of who else did.   This girl had the courage to be my friend while I was a social pariah.  She stood by me even when I wore that ridiculous hat.  She even began to call me Andy.  Casey was the only person who has ever called me that, and she did it the rest of her life.  However, it was not because it was a fitting nickname.  Of all the nicknames that I have received, Andy was by far the least suitable.  She called me that because it was my wish, my desire to be called that, and she honored it. 

                I grew into myself as the years passed and I began to see what that name represented.  It was loving the unlovable; extending mercy.  It was leaving the cool kid’s table at lunch, to sit with the girl in the dual purpose hat.  So that girl will know next time that she doesn’t have to try as hard, because she already has a ringer on her side. 

The Hope of Escape

The woods were dark and foreboding; even the moon was hiding tonight.  Despite all of the unspoken dangers awaiting me in the forest, I had no choice but to enter.  I couldn’t let him find me.  Fear began to keep rhythm with my racing heart.  I ran into the forest searching for somewhere to hide but my mind was too numb to concentrate.  I tried to force myself to take deep breaths, to focus on my surroundings.  Most of the trees looked too difficult to climb, but one caught my attention.  I could easily conceal myself within its branches.  Scrambling up to it, I grappled at the trunk, but I couldn’t get a foothold.  There was no time to keep trying, I had to move on.  I began to run again.  My ears were starting to play tricks on me.  I kept hearing footsteps that weren’t there.  I finally came upon a healthy sized bush just off the forest path.  Desperately falling to my knees, I tore at its branches seeking a way to the center.  Threatened at my violent approach it retaliated by lashing out at my arms and face.  I was getting nowhere.  I heard him call out and dread hit me in the stomach.  Grasping at straws I headed toward a fallen tree, deciding it was better than nothing.  As I got closer I noticed there was a deep ravine on the other side; enough that I could completely tuck myself into.  I could hear him thundering down the path behind me and I dove.  As silently as I could, I settled myself in the protection of the tree. 

My position afforded me a very small window of sight between the tree and the ground.  I could really only see the path.  Suddenly it became piercingly quiet.  My breathing was the only sound, and it was so loud I knew he would hear it.  I couldn’t stifle it.  The more I tried to silence it, the more desperate and ragged it became.  So I tried to turn my focus back to my ears.  Where was he?  The silence was eerie.  Even the night creatures seemed to be holding their breath.  A seed of hope began to blossom in my heart, as I thought maybe he went a different direction.  Maybe I was safe.  The moments began to stretch on, fueling my hope.  I couldn’t move yet though, just in case.  As the immediate danger had seemingly passed, I began to grow restless.  I also realized that I needed to pee.  Anxiety was always rough on my bladder.  I was still cursing myself for drinking that grande mocha when I heard the twig snap.  The hope evaporated and in its place panic took flame.  I could hear his breathing and I was so thankful mine had slowed.  I could see his feet carefully treading the path, stopping every once in a while to listen.  His feet disappeared and I willed him to move further away from my spot.  He apparently just turned around though for his feet came back into view and they were only about a foot from my tree.  My terror was widespread and I could feel my body begin to shake.  He stopped moving and I stopped breathing.  He stood there for what felt like an eternity.  I thought my lungs would burst.  When he finally continued forward, I exhaled as quietly as I could, relief flooding my body.

                Hope began to gnaw at me again.  I allowed myself a moment to consider that he had not found me and would not be coming back.  I had to get out of here quick and I only had one shot.  I quietly rolled onto my back trying to get in position to move.  The moment I looked up at the sky, my blood ran cold.  He stood looking down at me.

“I found you.” His silvery voice mocked.   I was so scared I couldn’t even scream.  I hadn’t even heard him come back.  His face split into a sly smile.  There would be no persuading him to forget me.  There would be no getting out of this.  He laughed at my paralysis.

“Come on Emily, You’re it.” He extended his hand to pull me up. 

The Casey Chronicles: Prologue

I walked into my fourth grade class and sat down at my assigned table.  There were several other kids as well, but the only person I really remember is Casey Allyn Gosnell.  It was my first year at this school, and as adept as I was at moving to new places, I was terrified.  There was never a spoken agreement that she would become my best friend, but after her simple introduction, I think we both knew.  It wasn’t as complicated back then, making friends.  We didn’t need to hold back for awhile to see if the other was trustworthy, we didn’t have some unspoken test the other had to pass before they could be deemed worthy of entering our lives; it was just pure and ready acceptance.  Our friendship started literally the moment she said, “Hi, I’m Casey” and I responded, “Hi, I’m Andrea”. 

                This incredible young woman put up with many difficult qualities about me throughout the eight years of our friendship.  She was the first to celebrate with me through the good news, and the first to cry with me over the bad news.   Casey was wise beyond her years, and I wore my immaturity on my sleeve.  I don’t know how she did it, but she stood by me through it all. 

Just three years after I met her, I was forced to move again.  I was so brokenhearted because I knew there would never be another Casey.  One day, before we left, I was at her house and we made a pact.  She promised for my sixteenth birthday, that she would come halfway across the country to celebrate with me.  The next four years were spent conspiring over long-distance phone calls, emails, and eventually Facebook.  When my sixteenth birthday was around the corner, Casey told me that she wasn’t going to be able to make it that year; her very wise parents wouldn’t let her drive by herself across the country at fifteen.  Though we were both disappointed, she promised me that she would find a way to come the next year.  When we were still a few months away from my seventeenth birthday, she called to tell me she had purchased a plane ticket.  That birthday was by far the best that I have ever had; it was also the last time I ever saw my best friend.

July 21^st, 2008 she died in a car accident.  There are times when the pain of missing her is so palpable that I just can’t stand to think about it.  But I don’t think that is right; Casey never did things the easy way, she did it the right way.  She deserves to be remembered and the best way I can think to do that is to tell the story of our friendship.  The Casey Chronicles are the start of remembrance of how she changed me; and even though it has been almost four years, she is still teaching me how to be a better friend and a stronger woman.