My Old Treehouse

The light of the early June sun was waning as it slanted through the old, weather-beaten boards of my old treehouse. Sitting inside it, I was overcome with emotion that I had long buried. Yet, this old place was also a place of comfort, and I drew on that to keep from totally losing control. My old treehouse…wow.

               I had recently come back to an old neighborhood of mine. I had spent the majority of my childhood there, along with some of my teen years. We moved away the summer between my sophomore and junior years. You see, my father was overseas in Afghanistan, and didn’t make it back. We got the news in early June. My mom, though she worked hard, didn’t make enough to afford to make the mortgage payments along with everything else, so we moved closer to her parents. I didn’t know that life would eventually come full circle.

           I’m now 31, a college graduate, and recently married. I found employment with a great company soon after getting my degree. After getting established with them, I was told I was being transferred. Yes, they were aware that I grew up in this town. In fact, that was one of the reasons that I was getting transferred because I was familiar with the town and its people. It suited me also. The schools there are really good, and my wife and I wanted that for when we have children in school. Our son is just 3 and not in school yet.      

           Once we got moved in, I had this overwhelming sense of curiosity to see if my old neighborhood was still the same, or had it changed. I got in my car and started on my way. As I drew closer, I began to see familiar sites. There was the old drive-in, now abandoned. Soon after, a mom-and-pop corner store called Bolden’s was visible. I couldn’t even begin to remember how many times I was in there, spending my hard-earned allowance on candy, gum, and sodas!

           Soon, I turned down the street where I used to live. It looked a little run-down. Some of the houses had the appearance of being long unused. Economic problems had nailed my old town. The closing of the tire plant left hundreds without jobs. They had left this town in search of jobs and a future. Those that were left on this street were there because they had managed to hold on, or maybe just from sheer apathy.

           I made the last turn, and there was my old home. It too was empty. The “For Sale” sign was faded and battered. I pulled in the driveway and parked my car. It was sad to see my old home like this. Weeds growing through cracks in the driveway, waving in the wind like land anemones waiting to feed on whatever drifted through. The paint on the house peeling, looking so much like the wrinkled skin of an elderly person that I could barely stand to look. I walked around the side of the house, and though the tree had grown a lot since I last saw it, my old treehouse was still readily apparent!

           I walked over and climbed the tree. The planks nailed into the tree creaked in protest at my adult weight, but they held. The old entrance was quite a bit smaller than I remembered. I had to laugh at myself about that. The entrance hadn’t changed, it was me that was bigger!

           Once I was inside the little treehouse, I could see things that I thought I would never see again. Some of my old plastic soldiers were still there. Most were scattered on the floor, but a few were still on the little shelf I had built for them and other treasures of my childhood. An old yo-yo, a model helicopter that the Army used, an old knife now rusted shut, and what was left of an old book. All these things I had forgotten about, all these things that I had left behind in what seemed like another life.

           I sat down in one corner, wiping my eyes clear of the tears gathering. Not all my memories were sad, not in here. So many memories came flooding back into my mind! It was like someone had turned on a tap to let them flow like water, or like someone had opened a file that had been long closed. I closed my eyes, leaned back against the tree, and let the memories flow through me.

           I remembered many afternoons spent in here, usually after school. This was my private retreat, my place to get away from everyone. This was my dream place, where I could imagine my life before me, where I could think about what I wanted to do with my life. And so many firsts in this place. My first splinter, my first stolen puff of a cigarette, my first drink…my first kiss. Ah, that memory! That was the summer after seventh grade. Lisa and I had been friends since, well, since I could remember. Up until that year, she and I were just that…friends. Nothing else. But that changed that school year, and we kinda drew apart, until that one afternoon. Both of us had been down at the creek, cooling off from the summer’s heat. We decided to climb into the house when a quick summer storm came through. The place wasn’t exactly rain-proof, but it stopped most of it. We sat there, waiting out the storm. The longer we sat there, the more aware I became of her. Pretty soon, that first awkward kiss happened!

           I learned how to cook some simple things for myself in this little escape place. My dad had shown me how to use the single-burner camp stove we had. I remembered how many times I choked down food that was either burnt or half-raw, pretending that I liked it that way. After all, I had cooked it, right!?

           So many times, when I was a young child, I would bring a book with me and do nothing but read in the treehouse. I introduced myself to Twain, Asimov, and Tolkien in this house. Yes, this house served as the bridge for several spaceships, especially from TV shows. Any story that had a room, this treehouse became that room. It also became where my friends and I would play D&D, all night, when it wasn’t raining. So many adventures took place in here. Elves and orcs, dragons and ghosts; they all lived in here!

           As I escaped into my memories, the afternoon slipped by totally unnoticed. The warmth of the afternoon, inside the old treehouse, surrounded me like an old blanket. The sunlight, filtering in between the boards, highlighted dust motes that swirled in the rising heat from the floorboards or were gently pushed around by the slight breeze that managed to make its way inside. All my old friends were present, still young boys in my memories. Lisa was there too, as I remembered all the “firsts” that she and I shared.

           It was with those memories fresh in my mind that my phone started buzzing. It took me a second to drift out of my mind and into present day. It was my wife…Lisa!

           “When are you coming home?” she asked, a little concern in her voice. I looked at my phone again. Five hours had passed!

           “I’m leaving right now. It won’t take me but about ten minutes.” I said.

           “Ok, then. Uh…what has taken so long?”

           I thought about that. “I found my old house and found something else that I didn’t expect. You remember that old treehouse?”

           There was a short pause. I could almost hear her memories surfacing and feel the heat rising in her face as those memories revealed themselves.

           “Yes, I definitely remember.” There was a short chuckle. “Come on back to the hotel, Romeo!”

           The next day, when we were out looking for our new home, none of them really suited us. It was getting late in the day when our realtor pulled into the driveway of a house at the end of a cul-de-sac. She said that the back yard was a little large, but she knew of several landscape companies that were affordable. As we toured the house, Lisa and I gave each other a look. So far, this house was one of the better ones. Then we walked onto the deck in the back yard. There, to one side, was an old oak tree. There were three limbs that were all about eight feet off the ground and level with each other. We looked at each other, both of us a little misty with thoughts of our youth.

           “We love this place,” Lisa told the agent. A week later, it was ours. The very next day, I was picking up lumber. That old oak tree? It was perfect for our son and any children we may have after him. Perfect for another treehouse.