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A quote: “Here bring your wounded hearts, here tell your anguish; Earth has no sorrow that Heaven cannot heal.” ~~ Thomas Moore
I’ll start with a story …
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Mom was rounding up the little ones. Dad looked around, brow furrowed, “Sean? Seen Em?”
“No, dad,” but I had a good idea of where she’d gone.
“Well, see if you can round your sister up. We must meet the rest of the families and be on our way.”
I ran across the field to where it gave way to a stand of windbreak trees and I plunged into dark, cool shadows. Dad had built a treehouse back here for us and … yep … I was right.
Em was curled in a corner, eyes brimming with tears. “It’s not fair, Sean! I’m not going. I’m NOT.”
Em was 13, prickly about moving.
“This is Jubilee, Em. Ship’s Charter says new settlements are created every fifty years. This is our turn.”
“But why us? Why do we have to leave?”
“Come on. Did you sleep through civics class?” I suddenly realized … “Wait, this is about Joshua?”
I dropped my voice, “I’m not going to tell you your feelings don’t matter. That leaving won’t hurt. But when we’re gone, where will you go? No snuggling in bed with the twins reading a bedtime story? No more going with Dad to gather the best mushrooms? No more hugs from Mom?”
She bust into tears and I hugged her tight, “No more getting to fight with your big brother?”
She laughed into my chest. “No, I would miss that most.”
She took my hand as we walked back. I knew she was still hurting but it would get better.
It had to.
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Now, it’s your turn.
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. featured image cropped Adobe Stock standard license.
Cameron says: My son was pretty tired from his chores but he still followed me down the path. “This is still part of our land,” I said happily. “And this is going to be important.”
A few minutes later, we arrived. The tree house was still there despite the years and the weather. I’d forbidden my son from going in this area until I was sure that the structure was sound, there were no threats in the area and the handholds leading up were secure.
His eyes widened as he saw it. “Has that always been here?” he asked in wonder.
“Oh yes. Your great-grandad built it for grandpa. Back then, it was called The Magellan and it took him across the seas and to many foreign lands. When grandpa gave it to me, it became The Aegis and it protected human colonies.” I waved him over to it.
“Be back by sundown,” I said. “And yes, your friends can come here too.”
When we talked that night at dinner. I learned that the new name was the Black Lion and she was part of the Free Trader’s Alliance. All he needed was a good crew and he had people in mind.
When I was a kid, I always loved to go visit Grandma and Grandpa on the old family farm. It was surrounded by towering oak and maple trees, bigger than anything in the subdivision were we lived. Unsurprising, given that the developer would’ve flattened everything before putting in streets and houses, then planted saplings in the front yard of each house. But what really made the old silver maple special was the tree house Dad and my uncles had built in it when they were teenagers.
When I was little, I only got to go in it when Dad or another adult took me up the ladder. I was so looking forward to when I turned thirteen and could go up with my cousins and play. Except it never happened, because two weeks before my birthday, a bad storm went through the area and knocked down a bunch of trees, including the old silver maple with the treehouse. I’d been so crushed, but I knew that if I showed the least bit of disappointment, Mom and Dad would tell me that I should be grateful that nobody was hurt.
That’s been a long time ago — and it probably seems even longer because of the way First Contact divided everything into Before and After. Now we’re homesteading on a distant world that needs to be settled as part of the Kitties’ long picket line against a xenocidal enemy who hates us for not being hive species. As I was going into town to pick up supplies, I went by a farmstead that had a treehouse in one of the big trees. It seemed rather odd, considering how we’re constantly being warned about frivolous consumption because There’s A War On.
And then I remembered that the Kitties are pouncing ambush predators. Of course they would want high places to watch for prey, even if they have domesticated their regular prey and no longer need to hunt. But even in civilization they like at least part of a dwelling to be elevated, so a treehouse would not be entirely a luxury for them.
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