The Tree

A castle in the sky

I was fascinated by an old gnarled oak tree in our neighborhood park when I was a little boy. I would stare up at it and see the potential for a sprawling castle with bridges and rope swings, ladders and a tall mast high up amongst the red yellow and green blanket of leaves. A widow's peak where I could see everything around me. No pirates could see me but I could see bad guys approaching. I could feel the possibility for freedom in that tree once I figured out how to scale it's thick trunk, for before I could get to that first level of branches to begin my building, I had to make my ascent from this garden floor. What to use to rise to the next level? A plank, a found plank? A hammer. Some nails. And once placed, another and another till I could reach that first plateau and sit in the crook of grandfather's oaken arms and revel in the conquering of the first stage.

And then, perhaps, daddy could help me build a fort on the bottom, surrounding the old trunk with a secret roof top escape hatch that, once climbed through, would set you on the second floor porch. And then you could swing to a new platform that had special seats nestled in that section of the tree. The curved wooden thrones created from decades of snake like maneuvers as these branches sought out the sun.

From there I would continue to build new platforms, like condos above the fray, where all of my friends who needed home would be able to come and find peace without being pursued by the bad dreams. We could create, together, the next stages of the castle, for the many thick offshoots of possibility lay stretched out before me as I made delicious plans and revisions to this miracle in the sky. New realizations. New opportunity now that I was above the ground, safe and hidden in the hollow of age, protected by the guardian trees around me.

Oh my goodness, how magnificent this castle will be! How proud I will feel as people come across this wonderous house set deep in the forest.

"Who could have built this vast sanctuary for children of all ages?"

Me. The frail little boy in the wheelchair. Wistfully looking up into the air as father pushes me along this forest path, asking me what I see.

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