Treehouse Escape

Mothering. Adulting. Caring. Cleaning. I was over it. All of it. At least for an afternoon. 

I hadn’t been in my old treehouse in years. Much of it looked the same, but my dad and uncles fixed it up for the next generation of kids to enjoy. My old tire swing got new chains. My old rope ladder was traded in for a wooden one. The roof was raised and shingled. Window panes were installed, and they added a deck and a telescope. The old bucket pulley got an upgrade as well. A brand new, shiny silver bucket and a new pulley system replaced what I grew up pulling up and sending back down with messages or snacks.  

No guilt did I feel when I grabbed my purse and car keys and walked out of the house to seek the refuge of a childhood play area. Well, maybe a little guilt, but I ignored it. 

It felt so good to leave the chaos of my home, even if it perplexed my husband and confused our kids. I was in the middle of making a sandwich for one of the children when it just hit me: I need to get out of here!  

My Uncle Robert installed a library box for the kids and he included some coloring books and colored pencils. I grabbed a couple of books and the pencils and climbed up the ladder and sat on the floor, using the bench as back support.  

Gentle breezes wafted through the windows I opened, bringing with it the light smell of honeysuckle and some other plants I could not quite identify.  

Coloring is a lot different when you don’t have children fighting over the crayons and coloring books. But once they settle down, it is fun watching them concentrate on their pictures, picking the colors and trying hard to stay in the lines. Chloe and Hayley would love coloring in the treehouse. They’d insist on hanging the pictures up throughout the treehouse. Hayley would sign her name on the bottom of each one she colored. 

On the door of the treehouse, there is a sign that says “Device Free Zone.” My mother told me she painted that sign herself using bright red paint for emphasis. She is not a fan of electronics and made it very clear that if the children were to play in the treehouse, they would have to leave the electronics in the house. I was completely okay with that and I left my phone at home. 

After coloring a few pages, I set the coloring books and pencils to the side and closed my eyes. The breeze was getting stronger and I felt a shift in the sun’s intensity. 

“Clouds must be rolling through. I hope a storm isn’t coming,” I said to myself. DJ is not a fan of storms and starts to get antsy if it starts to get dark outside. Even at 14, he still gets scared.  

I heard the bell ding from the pulley. The bucket knocked against one of the windows and I scooted towards it to see what was going on. 

I looked in the bucket and saw a sandwich, chips, a cookie and a bottle of juice.  

“I thought you might be hungry,” said my mom as she climbed up the ladder. There was plenty of room for us to sit crisscross-applesauce in the treehouse.  

She sat across from me.  

“Aww mom! Have you already eaten? There is only one sandwich here,” I asked, offering a half of the turkey sandwich to her. 

“You go ahead. I already ate,” she said.  

“This is good,” I said with a mouthful of food. She laughed.  

“Glad to hear it. What do you think about your old treehouse?” she said.  

“I like it. The kids will really enjoy it once we bring them over here,” I said. 

“Yep. I think your dad and uncles are thinking about building another treehouse and build a zipline in between them,” she said.  

“That would be so fun!” 

“How are you doing, Karen?”  

“I’m doing all right.” 

“Derrick called. He’s worried. I told him you were fine, but didn’t tell him where you were. Did you two have a fight?” 

“No, nothing like that. I just needed a break. They were all getting on my nerves. I needed to leave.” 

Mom laughed again. “I know all about that.”  

She patted my leg.  

“I’ll leave you to your alone time. Just put the trash in the bucket and I’ll get it when you send it down,” she crawled toward the door and the ladder.  

“Thanks again, Mom.” She smiled as she climbed back down. 

I finished eating my food and watched the birds fly to and from the bird feeder. Benjamin loves to watch birds. I made a mental note to find the binoculars for him to use when he came out to the treehouse. The clouds were still playing with the sun and the wind was indecisive.  

The tire swing was calling my name, so I climbed down and hopped onto the swing. I rocked back and forth and spun myself into a circle, just like I did when I was little. That’s Kelsey favorite thing to do on the swings. She twists the chains together and unravels them, spinning herself until she is too dizzy to walk, much less stand. She would spin herself into a tizzy on the tire swing. She’s the daredevil; she would be the first to try out the zipline, once it’s rigged up. 

It was calm in my parent’s backyard. There were sporadic sounds of birds chirping. The buzz of an insect or two. Occasional moos from cows on a nearby farm. The creaking sound of the chain attached to the tire and the rustling of the tree branches were almost foreign to me. I was not used to this kind of quiet. The kids would be yelling and laughing and playing as their dad chased them with water guns, or as they played tag. Derrick was good about playing with the kids.  

I felt more guilt for leaving my family so abruptly. It was so easy it was for me to just walk out and leave them behind with no explanation, no reassurances I would actually come back. I’d never done this before, but I reached my breaking point. Everyone wanted and needed me for something: water, a playmate, clothes, a butt wiped, a mediator or attention. And they needed me all at once.  

How did I get to this point? Will I be able to recharge after an afternoon away from them? Will I need more and more time away from them? What happens if I just decided to leave and never come back? What kind of person am I for even entertaining such thoughts? 

“Stop it! Here you are trying to get yourself together and have time to yourself and you’re thinking about your husband and kids and thinking the worst about yourself,” I said to myself.  

I stopped swinging and climbed back up into the treehouse. I opened up one of the benches and found some old board games. 

“Well, I certainly can’t play these by myself,” I said. Disappointed I came across them. I slammed the bench shut. I took a deep breath.  

This started out as a good idea, but treehouses aren’t that fun when you’re in them alone. At least not for me. Then I heard a rumble of thunder. 

It was time for me to head back home.