Sunday was one of those sweetly sad days. We moved out into the country about eight years ago. One of the first things we did was build a treehouse for my then 6-year-old son in a big Ash tree on the property. He made up all these wonderful designs for it before we actually got started and tried to help me build it. In the ensuing years, that treehouse has been a pirate ship, space ship, moon colony, frontier fort, King Arthur's castle and so much more. About two years ago the tree started to die and the treehouse was not seeing the activity it once had, so I suggested cutting the tree down. Quinn, my son, wouldn't hear of it. He was still too close to it, and to be honest, so was I, so I didn't push it.
A few weeks ago, he and I were out in the yard and we both found ourselves looking at the now dead tree and silent treehouse.
"We probably need to cut that down," I said.
"I suppose we do," he said. "I'll miss it."
So Sunday morning we went out with tools and, rather than tearing down the treehouse, we disassembled it, saving as much of the wood as we could. Quinn really helped this time. Once that was done, the chainsaw came out and the tree came down. We've started cutting it up and splitting it for firewood.
We neatly stacked the wood from the treehouse behind the garage. It's gray and weathered with marroon-ringed holes from the screws and nails that rusted over time. But it's strong, time has made it stronger than when it was first used to create a fantasy world for a six-year-old and his neighborhood friends. Just as, for both of us I think, the memory of summer fantasies, and abandoned attempts to sleep in the woods all night are strong and, I hope, the bond between us those events created is stronger than ever.
A few weeks ago, he and I were out in the yard and we both found ourselves looking at the now dead tree and silent treehouse.
"We probably need to cut that down," I said.
"I suppose we do," he said. "I'll miss it."
So Sunday morning we went out with tools and, rather than tearing down the treehouse, we disassembled it, saving as much of the wood as we could. Quinn really helped this time. Once that was done, the chainsaw came out and the tree came down. We've started cutting it up and splitting it for firewood.
We neatly stacked the wood from the treehouse behind the garage. It's gray and weathered with marroon-ringed holes from the screws and nails that rusted over time. But it's strong, time has made it stronger than when it was first used to create a fantasy world for a six-year-old and his neighborhood friends. Just as, for both of us I think, the memory of summer fantasies, and abandoned attempts to sleep in the woods all night are strong and, I hope, the bond between us those events created is stronger than ever.
VIEW 6 of 6 COMMENTS
1stmateacidmike:
well the job hunt is going okay man... i am going to be doing well drilling down in annapolis and im probably gonna join the national gaurd for a 15,000 bonus so its going okay
drusylla:
I'm probably going to run into one of those days eventually lol