Holding On, Letting Go

Lena was halfway up the ladder leading to the old treehouse when Jordan called up to her, asking if she was sure they could finish patching the roof before the storm hit. Lena squinted at a loose plank and admitted she didn’t know. It was always hard to tell with these things—weather, wood, her coordination.

Jordan grinned and reminded her of last summer when she had somehow gotten a splinter in her elbow just by climbing a single step. Rolling her eyes, Lena muttered something about him being the “ladder master,” and Jordan laughed. He hoped they could finish soon, then maybe head to the boardwalk later for cotton candy, arcade games, and all the small traditions they had shared for years.

Lena hesitated, a pang of sadness tugging at her chest. She admitted she didn’t know if she wanted to go. The boardwalk was full of memories of Ryan, and everywhere they had gone together now felt like a painful reminder. Jordan’s brow furrowed. He reminded her of their tradition since middle school—the Ferris wheel, the game booths, even that ridiculous candy apple contest.

“I know,” Lena said softly. “And normally, I’d be all in. But today… today I just want to sit here, maybe stare at the trees, and pretend the world isn’t moving so fast without him in it.”

Jordan softened. He told her she could miss the good parts without getting stuck in the bad, that she didn’t have to pretend yet, and that starting small was okay. He encouraged her to take things step by step.

“How?” Lena asked, gripping the ladder tightly. “I don’t even know where to start.”

“Step one is trusting yourself,” Jordan said. “Step two is trusting your friends. That’s me.”

Lena looked down at him, flickers of doubt in her eyes. “I… I’m trying,” she whispered.

Before she could respond further, the rung beneath her foot wobbled. “Whoa!” Lena yelped as her heart thumped. She slipped, grabbing desperately at the sides of the ladder.

“Lena! Hold on!” Jordan shouted, dropping his hammer.

“I… I can’t—!” she cried, her grip faltering.

“Yes, you can,” Jordan said firmly. “Look at me. Trust me.”

“I… I trust you!” Lena gasped, knuckles white.

“Then let go and land in my hands!”

With a gulp, Lena let go. Jordan caught her mid-fall, and both of them collapsed onto the grass below, laughing and panting. Lena lay there for a moment, heart racing, eyes wet from a mix of fear and relief.

“See?” Jordan said, brushing leaves from her hair. “You can trust, even if it’s scary.”

Lena nodded, feeling something inside her shift. “Yeah… I guess I can,” she whispered.

They sat in the grass as the late afternoon sun spilled over the backyard. Lena’s mind wandered to Ryan for a moment, then gently pushed the thought aside. The world hadn’t stopped spinning; it had just reminded her she wasn’t alone.

“You know,” Jordan said, nudging her with his shoulder, “after this, we’ll get to the boardwalk. No pressure. Just a small walk, a tiny game, maybe a churro.”

Lena smiled faintly. “I think… I’d like that.”
“You see?” he teased. “Step one, trust. Step two, friends. Step three… churros. Life’s simple math.”

“Simple,” Lena echoed, laughing. She stood up, brushing grass from her jeans, feeling lighter than she had in weeks.
As they climbed back up to the treehouse together, Lena realized that letting go wasn’t the same as forgetting. It was just starting to trust again—trust in herself, in the people who cared about her, and in the small joys that waited for her when she was ready.

By the time they patched the last plank, the first drops of rain were starting to fall. But Lena wasn’t afraid. She had her footing, her friends, and, for the first time in a while, a little hope.