What Makes a Home

I haven’t been inside this place in forever. It’s hot and stinky and kinda dark. But it doesn’t matter because it’s my home now, home sweet treehouse. I remember it used to be fun to have my own spot, I think it will be fun again, hopefully. I shove my suitcase into the far corner and pull up the rope ladder, one weather-worn rung at a time. I toss it aside and peer out the window; I seem to have made a clean getaway. Not that anyone will notice I’m gone anyway, I’m pretty much invisible these days. Everything’s changing; everything’s a mess. Dad got a new job and for some reason, that means we have to get a new house to go with it. So Mom’s been taking our whole lives and putting them into boxes, every day there’s less stuff and more boxes and I hate it. I can’t find any of my favorite toys, we don’t make pizza for dinner anymore and all the movies are gone somewhere too. Today’s the last day, Mom keeps saying ‘the truck comes tomorrow’ so my brothers and sister are boxing up their stuff too now. We’re supposed to have a big family sleepover in the den with our sleeping bags but I won’t be there. I move my sleeping bag on top of my suitcase and push open the stiff, smelly curtains my sister put up over the back window. I can still see into the neighbor’s kitchen even though the trees have gotten bigger. Mrs. Matthews is washing dishes before she puts them in the dishwasher; my mom does that too but I don’t know why. This reminds me so I start unpacking, I take out my favorite plate and cup and set them on the one little shelf mounted to the wall. I take out all my food but realize there isn’t room for everything so I put it back in the suitcase. I set up my Legos instead and spread out my Avengers bag across the whole floor. Up here in my house I can sit with my shoes on my bed and Mom can’t tell me not to; my house my rules now. I wipe my forehead on my sleeves and drink a juice box, it’s warm but I’m thirsty so it still tastes good. I get out the bug spray but instead of putting it on me, I spray it in all the corners of my new home, to keep the bugs out. Well, all but one because there’s still the hole where Dad put his foot through a board one time. But it lets in light and air so it’s okay, I’m glad he never got around to fixing it. I hope the new people who bought our house are nice and will let me stay here and pay them rent. Mom says they don’t have kids my age so that probably means they wouldn’t be using this place anyway. And I don’t think they’d tear it down because why would anybody take down a perfectly good treehouse? So now I’ll live here and I won’t have to move and everybody wins. I crawl over and look at the board above the front window. All of our initials are still there, initials are the first letters of your name with some dots in between. I remember when we all carved them, the first weekend the treehouse was done. It was the first time Dad let me use a pocket knife and we all thought it was a cool place to hang out. I trace mine and get a splinter, I try to get it out but I can’t. I hope it doesn’t stay in there forever and give me an infection, that’s what Mom always says will happen if I don’t let her take them out. I think the only thing worse than moving would be to die of a splinter infection at eight years old.

Brooklyn, my sister, opens the back door and yells. “Hunter? Are you out here?”

I duck down so she won’t see me up here and stay really quiet.

She closes the door again.

I’m going to miss her more than my brothers, she reads me books and lets me borrow her games more than they do. Plus, she lets me stay up later than my bedtime when she babysits as long as I stay in my room. I can stay up as late as I want now, I guess. I hope the neighbor’s dog doesn’t bark all night every night like he did last week. Mom said it was cause they were gone and he didn’t like the dog sitter, I just think he’s loud. I decide this house needs some decorating and take out my magazine. I tear out some pages with cool pictures on them and stick them up on the walls. It takes some time cause I have to find the old nails that were already here or use a sticking out piece so the pictures are spread all over the place, but I decide it looks good. I eat a snack or two, or three, and lie down on my stomach so I can look through the hole in the wall while I rest.

“He’s up here. I found him,” my dad’s voice wakes me up. “Hunter, you gave us a heart attack, what were you thinking?” he’s balanced on the top rung of a step ladder, his head bobs in and out of the window.

I sit up and rub my eyes, then pull the curtains closed in his face. “Leave me alone,”

“He is? Where?” Mom pushes past Brooklyn and rushes outside. “He’s up there? Is he okay? Hunter, are you alright?”

No!” I yell and move into the corner.

“Hunter, put down the ladder, right now,” Dad sounds mad but I don’t care.

“Michael,” Mom sounds mad too, at Dad. “Get down and let me up there,”

I peek through the window and Dad gets down. 

“I’m just trying to-”

“He’s clearly upset and you’re not helping. Just- let me handle this.”

Dad sighs like he does when I do something I’m not supposed to, like play with my toys in the bathroom sink, and he goes inside.

“Hunter, honey, may I come in? Please?” Mom pokes her head into the bottom corner of the doorway and sticks out her bottom lip.

I try not to smile because I want to be mad at her, mad at all of them, but I nod and she jumps up kinda funny and lands on her stomach then worm-crawls the rest of the way in. She scoots her back against the wall and her feet almost go out the door.

“Wow, I love what you’ve done with the place,” she looks around. She sees my dishes and frowns. “Don’t you want to bring these to the new house?”

“I’m not going,” I cross my arms. “This is my new house.”

Mom is quiet for a long time. Then she whispers “We’re a family, Hunter. We have to go all together. It wouldn’t be the same without you.”

“But I like my room,” I whine. “It’s all mine and it’s red and blue and I know where everything goes!” I flop onto Iron Man’s face.

“Hunter, honey, we can paint your new room red and blue, I promise,” she rubs my back and it feels kinda nice but I just want to be mad; I just want to stay here.

“It’s not the same,” my voice gets muffled.

“I know. But our family is too big for this house and thanks to Dad’s new job we can finally have more room. You have your own room but your brothers are a lot bigger than you and they’re tired of sharing. And it will be nice to have another bathroom. Remember how long Brooklyn takes to get ready in the morning?”

Brooklyn really does take forever and I can’t even tell what she does cause she looks exactly the same when she comes out.

“Yeah,” I sniff and sit up again. “But I don’t want a new school either. I just figured out the hallways and my friends are all here.”

Mom sighs. “I know, honey. That one I can’t do anything about but you will still see your friends, I swear it,”

“We’re not supposed to swear,” I remind her.

She smiles. “It means I promise, I promise you will still see Jack and Donovan. As much as we can, we’ll drive back here to visit and they can come to play at the new house. You can show them the new basketball court.”

“Oh yeah!” I smile but then make it go away again. I feel a little better but I’m still not sure this is such a good idea. “Who’s gonna tell the new people all the stuff they need to know?”

“What stuff?” Mom pulls me next to her and squeezes me close.

“Like how the door gets stuck on the upstairs closet, or how to flip the light switches for the fan in the family room?”

She smiles. “I’ll tell you what, why don’t you come down with me and we’ll make a list for them. We’ll write down everything they need to know about our special, silly house. Will you help me?”

“Yeah,” I rub my nose on my arm then my arm on my shorts.

“But first, we need to pack up your stuff again. Do you want to bring your pictures or leave them here?”

I think about it. “Leave them here. Maybe they’ll be a grandma and grandpa sometime and that kid will like them.”

Mom kisses my cheek. “That’s a very nice idea. Let’s go.”

We put everything back in my suitcase and Mom lowers it down attached to the ladder then climbs down herself, it sways and the boards crack and I hope she doesn’t fall.

I throw her my sleeping bag then look around. I’ll miss this place but I don’t think I’d have liked living here all by myself, plus there’s nowhere to cook food and it’s almost dinner time. When I reach the bottom Brooklyn gives me a big hug for no reason and my brothers both squeeze my shoulders and mess up my hair. I don’t know why they’re being nice and I don’t know why everybody looks like they watched a scary movie.

“Hunter,” Dad says inside and Mom clears her throat.

She does something I don’t see above my head and Dad stares for a few seconds.

“How- why don’t you pick what we order for dinner?” he smiles. “Our last family dinner in the house.”

I look at the dining room table covered in boxes and the chairs all wrapped in plastic stuff. Maybe they’ll fit better in our new house and I won’t bump my elbow all the time on the corner when I squish past Rex. I decide to add that to the list of things to tell the new people, ‘don’t put your table too close to the island counter or you’ll bump your elbow’. “How about wings?” I pick my favorite food.

“Yes!” Rex and Colton pump their fists and Brooklyn groans.

Mom and Dad smile at each other and Mom rolls her eyes.

“Wings sound great, I’ll call ahead. I love you, Hunter.” Dad picks me up and squeezes me really hard.

“They’re just wings, Dad,” I squirm and he laughs and sets me down again. I guess living in a new house won’t be so bad, as long as we’re all together. Mom always says ‘Family is what makes a house a home’. She’s probably right cause Dad says ‘Mom is always right’ even when she’s wrong.