The little girl tugs on the man's sleeve and, with longing in her eyes pleads, "Please Daddy? Will you build me a tree house? I can go there to have tea parties with my dolls. And how fun to peek down on the tiny people on the ground!"
The man contemplates the tree as if through his daughter's eyes. What is childhood without a tree house? Could he ever live up to his title of “Daddy” if he were to push this request aside? Did he not ache for the same thing when he grew up in a suburban home that offered no hope of a castle in the sky?
Of course he will do it. The weekend is free to get started right away. Lumber is purchased, designs drawn, dad and daughter excited at the thought of seeing it built. The floor first. Maybe a roof next, but plan to protect the growing branches that burst forth from the rafters. And walls are a must. Those teacups need shelves to store them, and windows with lace curtains to waft in the breeze.
The little girl moves in right away, happy with just a floor. Her dolls can imagine the rest. Walls? Who needs walls when the sun offers the warmth and security that those very walls would block? Spring blossoms peek in the windows that do not even exist. She is content.
The pleasant seasons offer hours of escape in her tree house. Daddy visits, but the excitement of the building process is dampened by other duties, other projects, maybe another day?
Fall turns to winter. The leaves vacate the tree, as does the little girl.
Maybe next spring will be time enough to get to those important details: roof, walls, a rope to climb.
Then again, the little girl is growing. Tea parties and dolls may be stored away and replaced with more young womanly things. Maybe a tree house with no walls will offer her the freedom to grow without boxing her in.
Lisa Van Aken
No comments:
Post a Comment