MORTALITY.

When I was younger I had a friend who lived next door to me. He was a bright-eyed, active, fearless kid, and I was meeker, softer, shyer. We bounced off each other well, and I found that I became more of what he exuded as I spent more time with him.

I liked that. So I spent more time with him.

He was always searching for adventures. This was obviously in the days before kids had computers or phones, or tablets, and so the adventures came in the form of real world stuff. You know, we had a big bush halfway up the street that had enough room between the stumps for a top secret base. The car park that stayed empty because the residents knew we’d kick a football about until dusk claimed us for another bedtime.

On the next street, just around the corner from our house, there was a small park area, set back from the road, with a couple of benches and a tree. My friend, made strong by his fearlessness, knew no boundaries and scurried up that tree without a second thought. He edged along the branch right at the top of the tree, giggling as he went.

CRACK.

The branch snapped.

My friend fell.

The back of his shorts caught on the next branch down as he fell, leaving him suspended in midair – embarrassed but safe – but for that split second I saw the fear in his eyes. He thought he was done for. The tree was tall and he was young and small enough that it could have done serious damage. He was never the same after that day. Still funny, still friendly, but no longer the first to charge into an adventure.

That tree changed his life.

Just like our lives now revolve around that same tree, Heath, though in completely separate ways.

I’ve been caught on the branch like my friend for weeks now, but although I saw fear in his eyes, my eyes flick constantly between fear and relief. If I fall, maybe the end will be a warm embrace, filled with understanding for the torture I have been dealt. I’m scared of that fall, but I can see I’ve also been subconsciously manoeuvring myself closer to the edge, begging for the day I push too far.

You though, Heath, you have no fear in your eyes. You swan dive from that branch each and every day. Sometimes twice. Sometimes more. But when you hit the bottom, you pick yourself up and start climbing again. You have become so used to wishing your immortality away that you have forgotten the fragility of mortality. And believe me, when you get your cure from Nate, and you finally feel FREE again, you’ll soon know that fear once more.

And the life you wished away every time you jumped from the time of the tree? You’ll cling to it, begging it to stay. Realising you didn’t even know you wanted it.

We stand in the doorway of the point of no return Heath.

Do you really want to turn the handle?