In the heart of the summer of 1970, Michael Jackson and Madeline Winters met, and at once, the children became inseparable. Underneath that summer sun, an imperishable connection blossomed between them; a connection that, across their passage to adu...
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Tuesday, July 7, 1970
Madeline
As I sat upon the thick branch of the most magnificent tree I knew, I released a slow breath while I smiled. I swung the both of my feet as they hung far above the grass, and I stroked my fingertips along the coarse wooden branch that I clutched with my hands. Contentment took hold of me as a gentle summer breeze traveled through the warm air, brushing my brown hair behind me. Here, at the grandest tree of this grandest park, I was happiest and most serene.
This park, which was in my neighborhood's outskirts, was made up of numerous glamorous hills. While adventuring up these steep green slopes one afternoon last summer, I had stumbled upon the tallest hill. When my eyes had first landed on the top of that hill, however, I had become quite awestruck because there sat the most majestic tree I had ever seen.
It became a paradise for me. A substantial trunk rooted the tree's base into the magnificent hill while every one of its thick branches sprawled out in every way. Leaves of every natural color decorated those branches for much of the year, parading the beauty of nature's vibrance. Plus—and what I adored most in particular—this majestic tree shot me up into the skies: When I climbed up into its branches, I was provided with panoramic views of the western San Fernando Valley.
This tree had become my closest companion. I climbed when I was happiest, I climbed when I was sad. Or, I climbed if I just wanted to count the millions of twinkling stars in the nighttime sky. I discovered a friend in this tree when I was overcome with loneliness, which happened more than I wished. I was the only child of a very busy father. Though my grandmother was always around me, there were no children on my street to adventure with. Luckily, I had my tree.
While gazing at the view, I blew a gentle sigh as the summer breeze resumed brushing across my warm skin. It was as if the mountains that bordered the Valley were beckoning to me to run to them. When I lowered my eyes, I became re-acquainted with the various homes, buildings, roads, and parks that made up various neighborhoods of Los Angeles. Summer break had just started a couple of weeks ago, and the summer's liveliness was enhanced by kids who were adventuring across the streets.
Today, loneliness had crept upon me, however. I had no one to adventure with. Earlier, I believed that going to the park would ease my saddened emotions, but as I sat up in my beloved tree, I yearned for more: a best friend and the wondrous adventures that came with them.
Various minutes into gazing at the view, I was disrupted by the growling of my tummy. Giggling upon hearing the noise, I decided that I would return home to eat lunch. I then started to climb downward, and within moments, I had jumped from the tree's lowest branch. When the bottoms of my black low top Converse hit the green grass, I sprung back up and brushed any specks from the tree from my clothes: a blue and green striped shirt, black shorts, and white tube socks with three green stripes at the top of them. After that, I wasted no time before skipping to my yellow Schwinn StingRay bike that rested at the bottom of this particular hill.
