Forgotten Moments

It looked exactly the same as it did last year. Save for a few cobwebs in the corner, and dust collected on the floor, everything was just as I had remembered. I don't know if that makes me feel better or not, because it was not the same treehouse. Everything had changed in that treehouse.

This is where we spent all those afternoons talking about our dreams, our ambitions. Now, it was just a shell of what it once was. A safe haven.

The sun shone in through the makeshift window, painting the room an orange hue, yet it was darker than I've ever remembered it. It was no longer where we went when we needed to vent about what was stressing us, or go when we needed a laugh. It's now where I go, when I feel like I'm drifting from reality.

She was always so good at pulling me back in before I went too far. Without her here, I'm not the same person anymore. I run my hands across the splintering wood that was barely holding this place together, trying to soak in the moment before it was gone.

Father decided it would help us move on if we moved out of state. I don't understand how that would change anything, she would still be gone, and I would still be lost. This treehouse, where we had spent the entirety of our childhood in, would be bulldozed and destroyed.

I laugh to no one. It's funny isn't it? We cling to things that remind us of our happy days, but run so quickly before we have to deal with the sad ones that follow.

It's been a year since I last step foot in here. It was too painful, knowing she'd never climb those ladders behind me, and we'd never have another late night sleepover here. The wood creaked under my boot as I walked through the stuffy room, which was now infested with all types of bugs.

My eyes well up when I come across our initials carved in the wood. V+P sisters forever. My fingers graze over the small indentations I forgot were there. I recall the day it was put there. It was the day after my first breakup.

"Who needs boys, Penny. All they do is break your heart, but sisters are forever. Here, I'll show you."

Valerie was always there, no matter how small the issue, or how big the mess. I like to think she's still here, floating around in the treehouse on the other side. I grip my arms as a chill surfaced throughout my body, like a hug of cool air.

I feel her with me always, but this treehouse is where we became best friends. We spent hours here reading our favorite magazines, or gossiping about the boys in our school. That all seems so minuscule now, so unimportant. All of my previous worries, heartbreaks, and stress flew out the window when she left.

Why did she have to leave? Did she not know how much I needed her? How I would fall apart if she wasn't here to hold my hand through it all? Part of me knows it's not her fault. She didn't choose to leave, but she was taken from me by a stupid drunk driver.

Stupid, stupid, stupid driver. He took away my friend, my sister, my other half and drove off as if it was nothing. As if he didn't crush my soul into several pieces when he left her there.

My gaze falls onto the dollhouse in the corner. That thing had been there for a decade, collecting bugs as if it was a roach motel, but we never thought to take it out. Each item in here brought a new memory, and a new wave of emotions.

I didn't dare sit in the tiny chair by the window, as I had grown so much since the last time I sat in it and it was most likely to collapse under me. Yet I still recall the day Valerie wanted to stay up all night, so she could sit in that chair and watch the sun rise.

Looking outside now, the sun would never be as bright as her smile. That smile could shine a light on the darkest days, cheering up even the darkest of souls. Twenty- Two years of memories are locked inside these walls, when they tear it down, those memories will pour out and be lost forever.

I suppose it's not too bad. Father says when we move, we'll be able to make new memories with just the two of us. It feels unfair, to make new memories without her, when she's not here to make new memories without me. I'm not even aware that the sun is setting until the orange tinted has left the walls, leaving the room just as dark and depressed as it feels.

I don't want to leave, but I know I have to soon. Father is cooking dinner inside. Chicken Parmesan, Valerie's favorite. He says it will be a good way to keep her spirit alive since she can't enjoy it herself. Maybe I can sneak out here again tonight. She loved sneaking out to the treehouse in the dead of night, so we could talk without waking our father.

He built this treehouse for us when Valerie was only four, the year I was born. There hasn't been a day I've been alive that this treehouse hasn't, it feels cruel to tear it down now.

The mouse scurrying across the floor snaps me out of my thoughts, bringing my attention to the small purple stain he had just run over. That was where I spilled my grape juice at age ten, Valerie made me laugh so hard it slipped out of my hand. I suppress a giggle at the memory.

She may not be here now physically, but she'll always be with me. I'll always look back and smile at the good memories and remember her for the person she was when she was alive.

I hope to live my life the way she wanted me to, with happiness. I stroll over to the ladder and slowly descend, careful not to step on the loose one near the bottom. As I take a step back and look at the rickety old building from below, a thought goes to my head.

If Valerie were here, she'd tell me to keep my head held high. 'Don't look in the rearview mirror of the past, and focus on the windshield of your future.'

I will, Val. I will.