Treehouse

a short short story about a mother and child.

Crista was a beautiful baby. Nothing in the world could keep me away from her. Her subtle tug at my long nightgown always made me smile. The innocent look in her eyes and her soft pink tiny lips that glistened with drool made my husband and I happy. Before we knew it Crista started school, she told us about her day and found new ways to show us she loved us. She made us paintings and often drew herself with my husband, and I holding hands. On one of the days she drew a picture of a tree-house. We thought it was beautiful and decided to build her one when she turned five.

           “I want a la-lad.” Crista whispered into her father’s ear.

           “You want a ladder sweetie?” her father chuckled quietly.

           “Yes!” Crista clutched her hands together and jumped a little.

Philip carried Crista out into the backyard. He lifted her up high and she pretended to fly. I watched from the kitchen and smiled. I couldn’t wait to tell them the good news. Father and daughter played outside for a while and finally marked the spot of where the tree-house was to be built.

           “Mommy! It’s going to be over there!” Crista’s excitement filled the kitchen. She was panting for air after her tenth jump.

           “Are you sure Crista? It’s so far away from Mommy.” I knelt down and moved her bangs away from her beautiful eyes.

Crista slept with us. She’s never had her own bed or her own room. Maybe that was our fault. Philip had advised me of the subtle dangers of too much attachment. I agreed with him and we would immediately begin talking about fixing up the spare bedroom for Crista, but that was as far as we got. We should have given her, her own room.

           I completely forgot about sharing my good news with Philip and Crista. So I prepared to tell them in the morning over breakfast. But before I could utter a word, Philip interrupted my breath.

           “Crista, guess what?” He looked more excited than I was to deliver my news.

Crista put down her glass of orange juice abruptly spilling some of it on the table mat. She looked over to me and I shook my head. I had no idea what Philip was going to say.

           “What Daddy?” She asked with an anxious look and gleeful smile.

           “I’ve bought all the wood and all the supplies we need to start on your tree-house. And Daddy’s two friends from work are going to come help me and mommy put it together.” With those words, Crista jumped up from her seat and grabbed her father and secured her small arms around his neck tightly. I got up and joined them.

           “Ahem, I also have some news.” I said impatiently and possibly with the same excitement expressed by Crista seconds ago.

           “We’re going to have a baby!” Before I could finish my sentence Philip came over and smothered Crista and I with another inescapable hug. I wasn’t sure if Crista understood, so I explained it to her and she was very happy.

           Philips’ friends came over every weekend for a few months. The tree-house was slowly coming together. Crista and I painted the wood with her favourite colours: pink, purple and blue. She drew hearts, smiley faces and even a picture of our family. She had her own play hammer and I trusted her small hands and gentle smacks while I held the real nails in place. It was a slow process, but we intended on taking our time as the experience meant more to us.  We all looked forward to the end result but not nearly as much as we did for the weekends to arrive. On Saturday afternoons I made lemonade, prepared tuna sandwiches, and baked fresh chocolate chip cookies for the team. We would never forget the experience of building the tree-house.     Crista went through phases. Shortly after her tree-house phase she became obsessed with books. Her favourite was “Mother Goose.” I tried to read to her at night, but I was having difficulty during my pregnancy. I was usually asleep before Crista’s bedtime so Philip read to her. Every night, Crista asked where I was and Philip told her that her new baby sister needed me. Crista seemed to understand. She nodded her small head. But after Philip explained, and she nodded her head, Crista asked again why I could not read to her.

           The day finally arrived. I slept very well that night. Our new baby, my darling Lea was a doll. She hardly cried and I was a happy mother of two. The next morning I woke up to an empty bed. It was frightening to feel the sharp pain of a mother’s intuition. My body was heavy and I was still in a lot of pain from labour. I managed to remove the heavy blanket off of me and struggled to walk quickly out of the room and into the kitchen. There I saw the tree-house standing, its pink, purple and blue shades. I felt like I was in a dream where I tried to scream but no sound came out. When I felt myself get dizzy I grabbed on to the table and accidently pressed on Crista’s book. The pages flew open when Philip opened the door to the kitchen. I noticed the bright markings Crista made on one of the nursery rhymes… “And down came baby, cradle and all.”