The Journal

“I knew you will forget about the markers and colour pencils”

“I’m so so sorry” your awkward face projected into my eyes.

I turned away from you and looked out the star-carved window. 

“I should get it” the wood creaked rapidly and the grass rustled. You left me, forever.

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“Turn right and your destination would be on your left”

I make the turn and see the house. It is painted in light orange with a hint of wooden planks nailed beside the black door. The windows are opened, a gateway for light to brighten the dark interior of the house. 

A woman around her 80s is sitting by the window. She turns towards my car as I stop my car on the curb. We glance at each other. Unsuspectingly, she dashes away from the window, pushes open the black door as it flung violently, crashing to the wood and limp rapidly to my direction. 

I push on the gas padel as I steer myself from this madness. The woman is tailing me as I glance the rearview mirror, struggling as she takes a step after the other. A glance at the rearview mirror again. A young man and that lady are running towards my car. The man is picking up speed when he weirdly, hugs the old woman, as he is trying to stop this old woman from approaching me. I slow my car.

“Is that Jaxon?” I manoeuvre my car to the side of the tight street, far enough to run for safety. A click and a few steps bring me in front of Jaxon. “Why are you here?” he made sure I knew his dominance. “I wanted to see that treehouse…” He coughed, “Are you that childish?”. Jaxon is still the same as he was during high school, always picking on me.      

“Is my childishness gonna kill you?” I said sarcastically.

“No” trying to show his dominance.

“This is my house and I can welcome anyone in”, the old woman walking towards us. 

“Don’t worry about my grandson” she stares at me and pull me to the direction of that house.

“Whatever” Jaxon frowned as Rosy walked me into the house.

“So you would like to see that treehouse?” her wrinkled arm, intelligible in this dark interior. 

“What for?”

“I sneaked into that treehouse before with my friend” I laugh awkwardly, knowing I’m telling the truth. 

“The treehouse created so many memories” I smiled.

“Woah! That seems so exciting” she cranks a door handle

I carried my free hand to my eyes as it shields my blue eyes from the sun. It seems like I had not seen sunlight in a long time after a minute in this dimly lit house.

“Go on!” she releases her grip on my lightly tanned skin.

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As I look at this magnificent building after twenty years, it seems as it had shrunk. The treehouse dwarf compared to the evergrowing tree. Another twenty years and this would be called a ‘house in a tree’ instead of a treehouse.

I start to orbit around the treehouse as if I’m the moon and the treehouse is earth. I calmly admire the treehouse, like how the moon could have admired humans living on earth. I glance at the sky as to how I did that twenty years ago when I sneaked into this backyard.

I move again before finding an irregular set of wood boards, nailed unorganized on the rough trunk of this gigantic tree. I hold onto a wood board, specks of dust and wood chips glued on my hand. Soon, my eyes caught the first look of the treehouse after twenty years. 

Nothing has changed. Two carved openings at each side of the treehouse. Each of it was carved differently. I push my feet as it sends me to safe ground. I sweep away even more dust around my exposed skin. I rise partially, right below the damp wood, and swing my head around, looking for something I knew I had left here. A golden flare went rapidly in my eyes. I knew what was that. I crawled carefully as I saw it uncovering itself.

I bend down and brush the glossy exterior, bring myself to the rough ground, next to that journal. I squeeze it tightly as I bring it to my chest. Holding my tears and the journal. 

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“Come on, Jaxon wouldn’t notice”

“Fine, let’s make it quick”

We crawled through the unevenly broken part of the fence that lined the house. The soft grass tickled us as we entered, welcoming us gratefully. We got to our feet when the breeze hit us, conflicting with the burning sun. I slide my arm through the fence, onto the other side. I pulled the golden plastic-coated journal to me. You gave me a disapproving look as you told me not to forget about this. I shrugged.

I hugged it as we lower ourself, crawling towards the bottom of the tree. You said this feels like a warzone. We were like armies trying to barge into the enemy’s base. I smiled. You climbed up to the treehouse first and told me to be on the lookout. Once you were inside, you totally forgot that I was waiting below for help. 

You went exploring inside that little wonderland. I signalled for help to get up there without getting too much attention. But you did not realize, so I decided to climb up on my own, even if I do not have enough strength. I reached the top and propped my head and the journal on the wooden board, catching my first breath. You screamed when you saw my head on the ground. I was frightened and lost my grip. I crashed down to earth. 

This alerted someone in the house. You bring yourself down, carried me with an arm and used the other to bring us up to the treehouse. I admired the strength inside you. We hid at a corner for about five minutes until that man is inside the house. You suggested that we play tag and hopscotch. 

“Tag would be self-explanatory”, you said and continued, “for hopscotch, we can imagine the wood gaps as lines”. I looked at the lines, thinking it looks quite confusing, but I agreed anyway. I guess we played both of those games for about an hour. During one of the tag matches, you almost ran yourself out of the entrance when I dodged. I laughed so hard that I felt my lungs tugging me to stop. 

I suggested that we could finish the journal now and leave it here. You shrugged and was reaching for the art supplies. You hesitated when the pocket was empty and you searched the other, nothing. I looked at you, knowing you would have forgotten. You gave me an awkward look and I brushed you away. You apologised and said that you would bring it here.

I sat down thinking about ideas for the journal. The layout of the pictures, the font of the words, the framing of the pictures. I smiled, excited for you to be back so we could design our journal together. 

I roamed inside the treehouse in little circles. Only about ten minutes had passed when I discovered a little shelf with a drawer. I bent over and slide open the drawer. A box of colour pencils and markers. I flipped it around, looking for a name, Lucas, that is you.

I realized you may have left it there before playing tag. I climbed down the uneven wood boards and slowly crawled across the lawn like how we did about an hour ago. I remembered how your imagination is always wild and funny. My heart ached. I knew I should not have treated you like that, but everything was happening too fast.

I walked fast but I’m not running. I’m trying to not make it so dramatic. I was just ignoring you for a moment. I slowed my pace the farther I go until I stopped when a crowd was on the other side of the pavement. I ignored the crowd and continue going to the direction of your house when a voice cried my name.

I ran to the crowd. My mom looking at me, emotional. I felt scared, not wanting to know the truth. I stopped there. I saw that green camo shirt on the person, blood-soaked, and it was you.