Solice in the Treehouse

Solice in the Treehouse

by Pamela Alcasey 

  I climbed up the ladder to the treehouse in a rush and sat down on the old coloring pages faded from the sun and the years. The breeze blew relief into my face and I let out a sigh. It was good to finally be alone in a place with good memories.

  Both of my boys, now in their 40’s played in this treehouse on summer afternoons. John, my husband built this treehouse with the help of our older son. They worked every weekend until it was finished. There were many injuries as a result hammered fingers, splinters and one fall from the treehouse in progress. John stepped down on the ladder that wasn’t there. He only had some cuts and scratches and no serious injuries except for John’s injured pride. Everyone got a good laugh once we realized he was not hurt.

  One summer this was Jonathan’s (the youngest) favorite place. He would wake up early in the morning and we would talk about what to pack for his lunch in the treehouse. A sandwich with whatever was available, peanut butter and jam if there was no meat. The fruit was a must any kind, didn’t matter what. And, something cold to drink to go into his thermos bottle. We always would talk during lunch preparation.

  “How far is the moon from the earth?” he would ask. “how many stars in the sky?” “Why can you work from home and Dad has to drive to work?”

  He had never-ending questions, but it was our time to be together for a few minutes before he was off to the treehouse. He would take his large lunch into the treehouse by 8:00 in the morning. All morning I could hear “land ahoy!” or “one more time around the moon” and if he was very adventurous, I would hear, “don’t worry the tigers cannot climb up this far!”

  The joy of his adventures was never-ending, until lunchtime. Then there would be soft noises and then silence. Sometimes I would creep up the ladder to see Jonathan. He would be sleeping on blankets he stole from the linen closet and the breeze would blow his blond curls as he slept. He looked so at peace and I am sure he was dreaming of his adventures. I would try to memorize his beautiful face as he slept. I wanted to store the memory so that I could replay it later when he was grown. I loved seeing that sweet face that is now a memory.

  I will store up all the memories I need up here this summer. I will study the faces and remember the fun times we all had together. I will escape here to capture the memories and feel the breeze bring relief to my soul. The treehouse will be my hegira. My place of redemption of soul searching.

  Both of my sons are with their Dad now. He is giving them the news and wanted to have some alone time with them. I know how difficult this will be for the three of them. Grown men expressing their feelings, unsure of how they are going to navigate through them and the future. I know that part of the conversation will be about me and how the boys will take care of me. I didn’t need to be with the three of them as this was men’s work, much more difficult than any work they had done in the past. They needed each other, the time with me will come later.

  That is why I am sitting in the treehouse thinking about the good memories of my son’s time in the treehouse. The treehouse is now a safe place for me to be where I will be difficult to find. I cannot express my grief in front of my sweet husband. He needs a supportive friend whom he can express his grief. I know that I will be able to shed a few tears with him, but I can’t become overwhelmed and sob in front of him. That would be too big of a burden to bear for him. I must be strong and shed my grief here in the treehouse. Here I can think about the past and grieve the present. I can pull up my memories and let them play like movies across a screen. I can pick and choose what to remember and what to leave behind. The treehouse will be a safe place for me. I know that this will be the first of many afternoons spent in the treehouse.

  I have three months to be with my husband, as he is dying of an inoperable brain tumor. The boys are learning this now. My husband and I only learned about this early this morning. We sat across a desk with the doctor on the other side. The doctor had to repeat the information several times as we just couldn’t hear the news. It was as though we had stopped hearing.

  After he repeated it several times, we understood. I didn’t know what to say on the way home. He just mentioned that he needed to talk with the boys right away. They came to the house to talk with their Dad as he had requested. I left for the treehouse when they arrived. I had never visited the treehouse after the boys grew up. I wasn’t even sure that the ladder or floor would hold my weight. However, it was a good place for good memories. I knew that I needed to be there alone.

  Neither of us has had a chance to process the information until now. After the boys go home, we will talk more about our plans. I will be ready for the conversation after this alone time. We will plan to make good memories in those months. We will go on trips, visit friends and family as long as we can. The pain will be difficult to bear, both the pain of the illness and the pain of the coming loss. I want to hold on to my husband and keep him alive. After every adventure we have I will store those memories in the treehouse. 

  I will store them up here and review them as I please in the months following… The breeze will blow away my tears and I will remember the good times we enjoyed together. In my afternoons in the treehouse.

End