Safe Haven in the Treetops

Nightfall – Henry Zhang

Safe Haven in the Treetops

Claire Dillon

“Emma!” 

“Kam!” We run towards each other as if we’re in a late 2000 movie. 

“I can’t believe it’s been a whole year since I saw you!”  

“Yeah, we really need to start seeing each other more often,” I reply.

“How’s sophomore year?” I ask.

“Well, it’s okay, I suppose.”

Kamren, my ex neighbor and I used to hang out every day. She recently moved far away, so we never talk in person. Although we FaceTime every few months, seeing each other in-person is different. Kamren and I only had 30 minutes to catch up before she had an appointment. I suggested that we go on a walk. We went on a stroll at the creek we used to enjoy playing in. Remembering our fun times in the treehouse and the forest that mimics a playset, we walked along the small stream and reminisced. My dad and Christopher, Kamren’s dad, built a small treehouse with a dainty swing hanging off the side. The swing was made of an old tire and some string my dad had laying around. Small steps led up a tree meeting the entrance of a small hut of wood. 

Kam and I run outside after a lengthy rainfall in the summer of 2018, excitedly exploring the forest. The trees are lightly swaying in the wind and it smells like fresh rain. We playfully weave through the trees and run towards the lake. Kamren asks,

“Do you wanna visit the treehouse?” 

“Duh.”
We love running around and going on walks while finding small treasures like small rocks or pebbles hidden under carpet-like moss. While collecting small pieces of art on the path to the treehouse, Kam and I skip towards the small wooden structure we call our “safe place,” and climb the ladder up to the main portion of the woodland mansion. Opening a box of Cheez-its, Kamren says,

“Yum, I can’t wait! These are my favorite.”
“Yes, oh my gosh. We haven’t had a picnic here in so long.” 

Kamren and I finish the box and giggle all night. Before we know it, it’s dark outside and the stars are twinkling in the night sky, mirroring the glow-in-the-dark stickers on the ceiling of Kamren’s bedroom. Taking a second to embrace the bright stars and full moon makes us hazy and sleepy. I part ways with Kamren but promise her that we will see each other soon.

Kamren and I never fail when finding something entertaining. For example, at her house, we bake with her mom or paint each other’s nails. Something as simple as cleaning her room can be turned into a fun task to complete. My parents told me we should be expecting a big storm to hit our house, and Kamren and I spent the rest of the night worrying about the treehouse fighting it off. While Kamren’s at her house, I sit at the window that gives me a glimpse of the treehouse and I keep her updated. 

Five years later, it’s my birthday and I have a big party with all my friends. Kamren wishes me a happy birthday but I forget about inviting her to the party. I promised her that we can have our annual sleepover and relax with face masks while painting our nails. Kam comes over and we spend the rest of the night staying in and catching each other up on a year’s worth of drama. Going to different schools gives us even more gossiping material. At the end of the night, we go through an album of old pictures of us. Kamren says,

“Aw, we were so cute.” 

“What do you mean ‘were?’ We are still cute!”
We giggle, and eventually, we reach a picture of us playing dress up in the treehouse, treating it as our castle. We look at each other and decide on visiting our old sanctuary the next day. As we make our way outside, Kamren grabs a broom and suggests we try cleaning the place up a bit. I come out carrying a huge bag with a blanket, two small pillows, a bluetooth speaker, a dainty string of battery-powered fairy lights, and a roll of tape. She mocks me, but I say,

“Trust me, it’ll look so cute when we’re done.”

“Whatever you say,” 

She responds. We drop the bag and broomstick by the treehouse and walk to the stream. We relax  while soaking our feet in the ice-cold water, as if we’re at the beach. We dried our feet off on the clean parts of soft moss scattered around. Although our feet are a little dirty, Kamren and I don’t mind. We slip our sandals back on and saunter through the compact jungle in my backyard. The slight chirping of the birds mixed with the sound of wind rustling the leaves creates a peaceful song Kam and I enjoy on our way to the treehouse. Once we get there, I use the broom to dust all the leaves and dirt from the inside, and Kamren sets the blanket up in the corner of the room, resting the pillows on top to create a little nook. I tape the string of fairy lights onto the wall. 

“Oh my god, it looks so cute!”
Kamren exclaims.

“Right! I told you it would.”

Kamren and I transformed what once was a dusty, old, treehouse into a modern, comfy getaway. Using my bluetooth speaker, I play old songs that radiate nostalgia throughout the room. Sitting in the corner of the sweet zone, we listen to music and tell each other stories we remember from our childhood. One specific time came to mind.

“Kamren, remember when you slipped in the mud?”
“Stop, that’s so embarrassing! I don’t want to talk about it.”
“It was so funny! I remember laughing so hard I almost slipped too!” 

“Exactly who would’ve been laughing then, huh?”
We snicker and spend the rest of the day talking and roaming around the forest. Knowing I always had a place waiting for me, a place that can solve my twelve year-old problems, was comforting in a way. I spent all day and night forgetting about everything and talking to Kamren instantly made me feel better.