#Chapter40
When I was young, I always wanted to climb the clothesline in Grandma's backyard. She had a dryer and never used the thing. The lines strung across drooped and were worn down by the weather, and the two white poles stood like a playground. There was a flat part on top of the poles. I wanted to climb up and sit on top and stare out at the trees. So, one day, when grandma and my mom were busy inside, I went out and dragged a lawn chair to the pole and set it against it. I got up and reached to the horizontal bit. Managing to grasp it, I jumped and struggled to pull my body up. It was a balancing act, but I didn't fall. When I actually did it, when I sat up there like a perched bird, I watched the trees as I hoped to.
The high branches swayed in the wind. The sound of the leaves reminded me of waves. If I wasn't afraid of slipping off, I would have shut my eyes and imagined myself on the beach.
