The Tree House – by Jennifer Green
When I was young I had a tree house. A two level magical creation; the upper deck built by my father out of old lumber lying around our property.
The main floor was a bi-level, formed by large exposed roots of a tree that fanned out in the same direction at decreasing heights, creating an imagined three-step downward stairway to my lower living space. I deemed the upper deck (accessible by a home made ladder) the bedroom, the upper portion of the bi-level the kitchen and the lower level the living room. I closed in the living room by hanging an old canvas tarp and nailing up boards. One of the boards emblazoned with text in yellow & grey spray paint that read “No Boys In or Out” (the “boys” mainly being my pesky older brother and his friends).
This tree house was my sanctuary and I spent many hours playing, imagining and creating happy worlds in it.
What I wouldn’t give today to go back to that “imaginary” tree house time of my life, where the real world issues were so oblivious to me. Where there were no images of violence in my head. Where my heart didn’t break over the hatred that humankind has created amongst each other.
Where all that mattered was what dirt made the best mud pie and who I would share it with that day . . .