A Rediscovered Treehouse

It was hot outside. Scary hot. And in true Midwestern fashion, not only was it hot, but it was humid. 

This would have been fine to April, if she was inside the house. With the air conditioning. And ice water. And the television so she could distract herself from her thoughts. 

Alas, April was not inside. She had been kicked out of her house for the day after she told her mom she shouldn’t have over-committed herself this weekend, which was completely true, and her mom disagreed and told her not to tell her what to do, and April said she was only telling the truth, and her mom threw a fit and banished her to the backyard for the day.

April could easily go back inside and apologize and relax in the air conditioning, but that would only strip her of her dignity. And a few of April’s star qualities were her dignity and her stubbornness.

So instead she laid in the backyard. In the grass. In the heat. With the hot summer sun beating down onto her un-sunscreened face which would totally burn and which she would totally regret later. 

She turned her head, feeling the dry grass scratch the side of her face. Her eyes followed the path of a squirrel, who darted across the yard and up the side of a tree. Her tree. April’s tree. She sat up.

Her treehouse, which she had completely forgotten about throughout the past 5 years, beckoned her through the crowded branches. 

April slowly picked herself up, waking herself from her heat delirium. Seeing her beloved treehouse, she was suddenly curious of what became of it. 

She climbed up the hodge-podge ladder, which was just blocks of wood nailed into the tree by her father. 

In fact, the whole treehouse had been built by April and her father together. His fingerprints were all over the tiny house. This made it difficult for April to avoid thinking about him, which had become a habit within the past year.

She stepped inside and was instantly transported back to her childhood. The sign that declared “No boys allowed” was still displayed proudly on the back wall. She could even still see the footnote she had added to the sign which said “except for dad”. 

Her mom had cleaned the treehouse of any comfortable sitting spots, like April’s horse bed sheet set and her Zac Efron body pillow. So April sat on the hard floor of the treehouse, which was uncomfortable, but still better than the barren grass that encompassed the ground below.

April looked around, and let the treehouse pull her into her childhood.The only light in the room came from a single window on one of the walls, but it was more than enough for April to see. 

Pages ripped from coloring books were plastered all throughout the room. Assorted crayons and markers littered the floor. April’s CD player, which was white with pink embellishments, sat in a corner with the High School Musical soundtrack still inserted. The room was no bigger than her bathroom, but somehow it held April’s entire youth inside. 

Walking to one corner, April found a Converse shoe box she had decorated to say “Important Stuff. For April’s Eyes Only”. Inside she found a number of notes she had collected over the years. She unfolded one to read “Dear April, you are so pretty. We should meet at the swing during recess. - Kyle”. April rolled her eyes. Kyle was her 5th grade boyfriend, who she “dated” for a year before they broke up because Kyle claimed middle school had changed her. 

Another - “Dear April, Ms. Husly is being super mean. I tried to talk to you about our sleepover and she yelled at me and told me I can’t talk when she’s talking. How rude. Anyway, I’m super excited for your sleepover tonight. Should I bring cookies or popcorn? - Ashley”. This made April smile, because Ashley was still April’s closest and fiercest friend. Ashley ended up bringing cookies to the sleepover, and they were some of the best cookies April can remember having.

“My dearest April, Can I please come inside? Your mother made pizza for dinner and I really want you to share some with me. I’m sorry Heather’s being mean to you. How about you let me in and we can talk about it? Love, Dad”.

This one took April by surprise. She was sure she had taken everything related to her father and stuffed it into a box in her basement, so she would never have to think about him again. As she had forgotten the existence of the treehouse, it didn’t pass her cleaning.

She was confused. She hadn’t felt this way in a while. In fact, she hadn’t felt anything in a while. April couldn’t remember the last time she felt… anything. Lately she’s felt empty, and nothing. This sudden surge of emotions was unexpected and confusing. 

April avoided thinking of her dad. She never knew whether to feel sad, or angry, or happy, or love. She was always so close to her dad. She was his girl, and he was her favorite person in the world. It pained her to think of the possibility that their relationship was entirely untrue. 

After he left, she lost control of her emotions. At school April would find herself sobbing in the bathroom almost everyday. Other days she would fall into fits of uncontrollable anger. She became emotional. She became unpredictable. She became a summer storm. 

Until one day she had enough. She found herself crying in the bathroom for the eighth school day in a row, and she couldn’t do it anymore. April vowed to never think of her dad again, and to save herself the exhaust of emotions. 

And she did well. She closed herself off from that part of her life. She threw away every gift she received from her dad, even her favorite heart necklace she wore everyday since she got it. She put all pictures of her and her dad in a box in the basement, and hadn’t opened it since she sealed it shut. She even ruined her relationship with her mom, because being with her reminded April too much of him.

But looking at this note from her father, April was reminded of the pure, unfaltering love she had for him. She remembered how every night he would tuck her into bed, burrito style, and tell her about his day. She remembered how he would sit next to her at the kitchen table and help her with her math homework. She remembered how they would lay on the family room floor and he would listen to her read out loud. She remembered that on his days off they would look at model homes together and get ice cream afterwards. She remembered walking through the neighborhood with him. She remembered him completely.

April sat in the middle of the treehouse and allowed herself to do something she hadn’t done in years. Clutching the rediscovered letter from her father, April cried.