Joey pressed his nose against the glass, watching the shimmering leaves dance in the wind. The patterns on the ground seemed magical, a private show just for him. Each night, the moon gave his tree a gentle glow, and even in the darkest hours, he felt less alone.

Joey gripped the rough trunk, his small hands muddy and determined. Every morning, he challenged himself to climb higher, daring to reach the topmost branches. Up there, the world below faded away, replaced by the freedom of fresh air and endless sky.

"If I close my eyes, I can fly anywhere," Joey whispered to himself, legs dangling, face tilted towards the sun. He imagined soaring over his town, unseen and free, spying on people below with the sharp eyes of a bird. Here, worries faded, replaced by dreams of flight and adventure.

Joey listened for the first crack of a beer can, knowing it meant it was time to vanish. He climbed quickly, finding refuge among the branches as the house grew unsafe. The tree’s embrace was steady and kind, shielding him from the anger that brewed inside.

Joey ate quietly in the kitchen, the taste sweet and comforting. He glanced out the window for reassurance, spotting his tree standing watch. It reminded him that tomorrow would bring another chance, another day to climb higher and hope for better.

Joey sat beneath his tree, now grown, pondering the meaning of it all. "Will I ever know if what I’ve done matters?" he asked softly, the branches swaying in response. The tree had given him strength, and as he looked back over decades, he hoped his story would help his children understand the roots of who they were.