I looked up at the ginormous oak tree standing above me and grinned. It was beautiful. But nestled about halfway up the tree sat my treehouse. And that made it the best tree out of all of the trees.
Making my way up the ladder, I was starting to get even more excited. This would be the first time I had ever been in it. Dad had just finished it, anyway.
When I got to the top, there was a little landing and then a door to get inside. I took a step forward and opened the red door. I frowned; there was another door. Then another...
I woke up. I had fallen asleep in my bean bag chair again. My dream had kind of freaked me out, so I did the one thing that calmed me down. I wrote.
I would spend countless afternoons like this in my treehouse writing. Just me, my treehouse, and the woods around me.
That day I wrote about magical creatures and falling love. That was my least favorite thing to write about, but I knew if I wanted to be an author I had to have an open mind.
When I finally put my notebook down, hours had passed. It looked like it was dinner time, so I re-read my story first then put all of my things away back in their rightful places and walked home.
I rushed to put my rain boots and coat on before running out the door into the pouring rain. I ran until I got to the big oak tree and started climbing up to my treehouse. I immediately collapsed onto my bean bag chair and sobbed.
My parents had gotten into another "argument". It was really just them screaming at each other. This time it was about money. I guess Dad had been spending too much.
It wouldn't have bothered me as much if it didn't happen every week. But it did. And it bothered me. I prayed to God that it would go away. I prayed to God that Mom and Dad would get over it.
Lots of things rushed through my head while I sat on my chair and cried. Most of the things were negative, or trying to convince myself that those negative things were wrong. But I knew they weren't. When I realized that, I just started crying more. Things were just getting worse.
I paced in my treehouse and shook with anger.
I had just gotten off the phone with my so-called best friend. She said that her family's summer block party was cancelled. But just before that, my other friend had said she was staying the night after the party. My best friend was lying to me.
Tears rolled down my face and I stopped pacing to wipe them away. Now my body was shaking from the feeling of betrayal.
Sammy (my "best friend") had always been there for me, and I was always there for her. I continued to wonder what I had done to make her want to lie to me, or un-invite me from her party.
We hadn't even talked in a couple of weeks, so it's not like I could've said anything wrong. But maybe it was the fact that I hadn't talked to her in a couple of weeks that made her mad. I didn't know, but I did know that I had to fix it somehow. I couldn't lose her.
I sat down at my new desk in my treehouse and bit my fingernails. My parents had gotten into another fight, but that wasn't what was bothering me. Their fights were normal at that point. I was nervous about something Mom said. I replayed it over and over in my head.
"I want a DIVORCE!" After that, Mom had went outside and drove away in her car. And she drove away fast.
I tried to convince myself I heard her wrong, but I knew what Mom said. I just hoped it wouldn't happen. But when I saw Dad's face after she left, I had that moment of doubt. And it wouldn't leave me.
I grabbed my notebook and a pencil off of the shelf next to my desk and opened my notebook, laying it down. I picked up my pencil and twirled it in my fingers for a minute before putting it to paper.
I started to write about a woman who lived alone on a beautiful river in her cabin. There wasn't electricity, but she loved it. I wished I could be that woman.
I looked around my now empty treehouse. I cried. The treehouse had been my safe place. I hid from reality there. Mom and Dad's divorce, my friend's betrayal, and everything else disappeared when I was there. I felt like I was completely alone, but in a good way.
But now I had to leave. I was going to live with Grandma and Grandpa because Mom and Dad both were "unstable". Don't get me wrong, I liked staying with my grandparents. They were caring and loving, but still had some rules like any reasonable person. Their house was huge, and they lived on a farm which meant I could ride the horses and run for what seemed like forever.
But I was leaving my home.
I sat in the middle of my treehouse on the floor while reading a book. It was a book that Mom had wrote when she was around fifteen-years-old, and I would read it over and over. It was about her dreams for the future, and all of the adventures she would go on. It was a fun read, especially when most of the things didn't happen. Like Mom having ten kids.
The treehouse I was in was a treehouse that Grandpa built for me shortly after I moved in. It was very nice, and it was a lot bigger than the one I had had back at home (I still didn't consider the farm home). But it wasn't the same.
Nothing was the same.
And it never would be the same again.