Along an unbeaten path, tucked far away from the rigors of life lies our adolescent headquarters. Nights spent under the stars of contemplation, days spent blissfully away from our troubles; nothing has changed from our youth. No longer in high school, yet compelled to return, the tree house contains some of my fondest memories. I may no longer recall the worries of adolescence, but will never forget the significance of hours spent among the leaves, nor the people with whom those days were never wasted. Friends turned into family as laughter, antics and music danced around the branches, taking our cares to distant places. We found solace on our island in the sky. The tree house would never judge, there are no rules, no dishes to clean, no homework due, no topic disallowed. Remnants of the memories we share leave their unique marks in the crevices, along the walls and tied in the branches of a child’s paradise. Alone we go back to our lives in college but together we always return, as the tree house is not meant to facilitate solitude, but always community. Gathered together after what feels like years apart, we climb up just to lose ourselves to the powers of our magic tree house.
Content and Photograph by Alexandrea Rager