A treehouse can be many things. It can be a place, a world, a universe. It can be a color, an emotion. It can be a safe place, a hideout. It can be an Egyptian pyramid or an ancient Japanese temple. When the only limits are a young girl's imagination, a treehouse can be anything and everything.

A treehouse can be a palace.

“My lord! The enemies are at the gate!” a knight shouted as she approached the prince standing in the hallway. The young prince looked at the troubled knight with concern.

“Now? Are you sure?” he asked in a worried tone of voice. 

“Yes! They’re coming, and they’re going to flood the place by noon!” she said. Sadly, the prince looked at the polished floor, perhaps wondering if when he saw it again, it would be nothing but ruin. “Well, I see no other choice but to partake in battle. Ready the knights! Prepare the catapults! We will have these enemies gone by supper! They will never defeat us, the brave and mighty-” 

“Kids, dinner is ready!” shouted a voice, disrupting the prince’s mighty monologue. 

“Mommmmm, we were just about to defeat all of our enemies!” whined Lily, previously the young knight. She stomped her foot on what was once a marble floor, now made out of rickety old planks of wood. 

“Yeah!” said Jacob, (or the prince), “we had catapults and everything!”

“I don’t care if you have nuclear weapons, eight-year-olds need to eat! How else will you grow?” 

When no children came down the old wooden treehouse, the mom sighed. “The enemies will still be there when you come back, now come down.”

Lily looked crestfallen, but Jacob was hungry, and plus, Mrs. Mentice made the best dinosaur chicken nuggets. So, he nudged on his best friend's shoulder and said in a deep voice, “Fear not my brave knight! I have been keeping a secret from you! I am actually a sorcerer, and I have the power to freeze time! I will use it now, so we have plenty of time to come up with more battle strategies, until we cannot be beaten! Our enemies will be there when we return.” Lily, looking significantly more cheered at the promise of more battle, chirped an “Okay!”, and scrambled down the ladder of the treehouse. Jacob followed shortly after, energy mysteriously replenished with the promise of chicken nuggets. 

“Honestly,” the mom muttered to herself, “What were they thinking, doing a medieval unit in school?”

A treehouse can be a ballroom. 

“Ow! Quit stepping on my feet!”

“I can’t help it! It’s supposed to be one-step two-step, but for some inane reason, you keep doing three! There is no three!” Lady Mentice huffed at Lord Pallen’s excuses and broke apart from him. “Well excuse me if you can see your feet because you’re not wearing an insanely long ball gown!”

Lord Pallen also huffed and crossed his arms. At this point, almost everyone in the crowded ballroom was looking at them, and instead of getting embarrassed, Lord Pallen thrived in this kind of attention. “Well I’m sorry,” he started, continuing the silly British accent that they had been talking in before, “I was just trying to take us out on a fun night, but you insist on ruining it with your complaining!” 

“I’m not the only one complaining!”

“Fine! On the count of three, we’ll both stop complaining.”

“I will if you will.”

“One,”

“But I don’t think you will.”

“Two,”

“Because you’re not the type of person to just stop-”

“Three.”

“...” 

“Wow, I did not think that would work,” Lord Pallen said in surprise. 

And with this new pact, they decided to try dancing again. It was going well, foot stepping was kept to a minimum and the chance of injury was becoming rarer, until an attempted spin led to Lady Mentice crashing into a wall. Suddenly, the people with the excessive makeup and costumes faded as quickly as they were dreamed up of, as well as the ball gowns and the large ballroom. Oak walls replaced the marble ones and jeans replaced the frilly gowns. 

“Owwwww,” Lily said. She groaned and clutched her shoulder. “I guess Mom was right Jacob. You really do start getting taller when you turn ten. Years ago we’d be able to spin with no trouble.” She took Jacob’s outstretched hand and pulled herself up. After Lily was finished dusting herself off, they stood there awkwardly for a second, not knowing what to do now that the ballroom was gone, along with the platters of food and the chatter of the people around them. Jacob missed it already, he enjoyed making up stories for the different characters that lived in his head. For example, Lady Geneva had a secret son that nobody knew about because she didn’t want him to grow up famous. There was also Madam Gloria who was a princess doubling as a boxing champion, and Squirgle, a little creature that liked to sneak into balls that he didn’t belong in. These were only a few of the dozens of backstories he made up for the characters in his and Lily’s adventures, and he was oddly sad that the only person who knew of them was Lily. 

Eventually, he just couldn’t take the silence and asked, “You wanna play Minecraft?

A treehouse can be a pirate ship. 

“I see the treasure! I see the treasure!” Jacob shouted while squinting through the telescope covering his right eye. 

“Really Jacob? Cuz’ I looked over there already, and I saw absolutely zilch,” Lily said. 

“Well, that’s only because you were looking for treasure!” 

“What was I supposed to be looking for, a toilet?” 

“No, an X, duh. X marks the spot where the treasure is. I see an X!”

“Do you see a spare brain you can use?”

“Lily!”

“Sorry. I didn’t study for the math test tomorrow, I’m stressed. Sixth grade is harder than I thought.”

“Well guess what? You know what’s in the box?” asked Jacob.

“The answer key?” Lily said hopefully. 

“I was going to say gold but let’s go with that. C’mon, let’s dig up the treasure!” Lily pursed her lips but followed him down the ladder, and not surprisingly Lily was the one to find the X on the ground. 

“That’s not fair! You drew it!” Jacob protested. 

“I’ll have you know my mom drew it! I just have better eyesight. Help me dig,” Lily demanded, and Jacob just rolled his eyes and grabbed two of the shovels hidden behind the oak tree. He and Lily dug and dug and dug until it seemed like they would hit the middle of the Earth if they dug anymore. In reality, they dug two feet, but who cares about reality?

Eventually, they found the treasure, a large brown cardboard box. Lily’s eyes widened, she hadn’t expected that there would actually be treasure! What could be in it? Maybe long-lost jewelry? If they sold it, they could be rich! And then explore the sea for real! And-  

A disappointed “Oh,” coming from Jacob cut off her train of thought and she glanced at him. His dimples were set into a pout, a contrast to the usual smile they held. He was staring sadly at a piece of paper, and right before Lily thought she would absolutely die of curiosity, he flipped the paper to face her. She quickly scanned what was on it, and her face formed into a scowl. 

“Haha Mom. Very funny. Very funny.” Lily said sarcastically. On top of the list, in big bold letters stated,

CHORES FOR LILY AND JACOB TO COMPLETE BEFORE DINNER

Jacob of course protested vehemently. “I don’t even live here! I’m not even related to you!” 

“Oh, hush. We both know you broke the lamp”

“That was supposed to be a secret.”

A treehouse can be a nail salon. 

“I said no!”

“Oh c’mon, Lily, why not?” 

“Because I said so!” The girl shouted.

“That’s not a real reason. Why don’t you want to play pirates?” Jacob asked.

“We’re thirteen Jacob. Your birthday was last week. We’re mature teenagers now, we can’t be playing stupid make-believe games!”

“It’s not stupid,” he said 

“Yes, it is.”

“Fineeeeeee, I just want to play something. How about a compromise?” Jacob offered.

“Like what?”

“Well… What do mature teenage girls do?” 

“Ummm… They paint their nails,” Lily answered, unsure.  

“That’s it! We’ll open up a hair and nail salon!” Jacob said, looking excited at the concept. As Lily thought about it, she was starting to warm up to the idea. Painting nails is a perfectly acceptable thing to play when you’re thirteen, she thought. 

“Really? Can I do your nails?” Lily finally asked. 

“Do you see any other customers?” It was indeed just them in the treehouse. Their moms, being best friends since elementary school, were talking inside the house, doing grown-up things like drinking wine and talking about the weather. Lily dreaded the day where all she had to talk about was the weather. Luckily, she didn’t see that day coming anytime soon. 

“Wait here,” Lily said. “I’ll get the nail polish.” She left the treehouse in search of the kit she got for her birthday and came back with nail polish for all of the colors of the rainbow. They continued to paint each other's nails for the rest of the evening. Lily found it getting boring very quickly, but Jacob was happily painting stars on her thumb, and he looked so cheerful she didn't want to say anything. So they sat there for the rest of the day, painting nails and doing hair while humming to Taylor Swift until the sunset. 

A treehouse can be an art gallery.

“Lily, turn off your phone!” Jacob exclaimed. 

“I’m just replying to Darcy’s invitation for her Sweet Sixteen,” Lily replied, not looking up. Jacob pouted, and Lily tried not to look at his puppy dog eyes. Those things were pure evil. Despite her efforts, it didn’t work and in the end, she shut off her phone with a sigh.

“What Jacob?” She hadn’t said it in a mean tone, but Jacob looked sad all of a sudden. He looked around the old treehouse that seemed to be getting smaller and smaller with each and every year. 

“It’s just that…” he started.

“That it’s what?” Lily asked. 

“We just never come here anymore. It gives me a weird feeling,” Jacob said.

Lily didn’t say anything for a long time, also looking around the room nostalgically. After doing a full scan of the place, she gave him one of her rare soft smiles and told him gently, “We’re growing up.” 

“Well that’s a scary thought,” Jacob said. 

“Then don’t think,” was her reply. Jacob was all too happy to follow that instruction, and the two sat in comfortable silence. 

“Ow!” Lily exclaimed. Well, that silence ended quickly. 

“What happened Lily?” Jacob asked. 

“I stubbed my toe,” she said through gritted teeth. “Why is it always me?” (“Because you lost your sense of self-preservation when your mother dropped you on the head as a baby.” “Shut up Jacob.”) As she looked around, she saw what she had stubbed her toe on. It was that old box that they had dug up years and years ago on a pirate adventure, but she didn’t remember it being this heavy. She reached over and pulled the lid off the box, then peered in. When she saw what was inside, she couldn’t help but laugh.

“Um, Lily?”

“Pictures Jacob! Pictures!” she said gleefully. The box indeed was filled to the brim with printed photos, whether it was documenting the best friend’s shenanigans or the best friend’s themselves taking the photo.

“They’re so pretty Jacob, we have to show them to our parents,” Lily said. Jacob looked thoughtful for a couple of seconds until a wide grin spread across his face. 

“I think I have a better idea.” Thoughts of Darcy’s Sweet Sixteen were immediately banished as Jacob gave Lily the plan. That day, the treehouse wasn’t just a treehouse filled with old memories. No, with a lot of work and hammering, the nearly forgotten treehouse was turned into an art gallery, showcasing memories of adventure after adventure, fight after fight, hug after hug. And the best part? This time, it wasn’t make-believe. It was all right before their very own eyes. 

A treehouse can be a bakery. 

“Oh god, I don’t think I can fit,” Lily yelled from the entrance of the treehouse. 

“You can do it!” encouraged Jacob, who was still at the base of the tree. 

“It’s been four years Jacob, I’ve grown!” Jacob only laughed at Lily’s complaints and continued giving unhelpful encouragement. Then it was Jacob’s turn to climb, and he wasn’t laughing anymore. After a lot of pushing, yelling, and insults, the two college students fit inside the treehouse with barely any room left.

“How did we used to run around in this?” Jacob asked. 

“Magic,” Lily said. She didn’t elaborate. Jacob thought she didn’t need to. 

He took in his surroundings during the silence. He and Lily in their opposite college sweatshirts, both home for Thanksgiving break. They hadn’t seen each other in a while, and Lily had gotten a new nose piercing during that time. She didn’t tell him she was thinking of getting one.

Seeing her in the flesh again brought back that painful yearning he was suppressing, the yearning to go back in time to when they were little when they were thick as thieves and told each other everything. Those were simple times, even with all the invasions and pirate treasure being discovered. 

Eventually, Lily got impatient and asked Jacob why he was looking at her. All he could think to say was, “It rained last night.”

“Okay…” 

“Remember, when we were little, what we would do when it rained?” Jacob said. Lily leaned her head back on the wall and gave that soft smile that Jacob loved. Usually, whenever she gave that smile, it was meant just for him. Even if they would grow apart sometimes in high school, she would give him that smile and he would know that they were still best friends. That nothing changed. That Lily was still a force to be reckoned with, a hurricane of ideas and actions yet also a lazy river all at once. It meant a lot to still see that smile today. 

“Mudpies,” she said fondly. Jacob looked around. “You think you’d wanna open up the old bakery one more time? For old times sake?”

“Oh Jacob,” she drawled in that horrible old British accent they used to do. “The answer to that question will never be no.”

Jacob smiled. 

He was home. 

They were back. 

(And no, their parents definitely did not tear up when they saw their 20-year-old kids covered in mud, proudly presenting the mud pies they made to their family as if they were eight again. Definitely not.)

That treehouse was many things. It was a place of love and friendship, adventure and safety. A common outsider wouldn’t be able to tell, they would just take one look at it and see a shabby old shack in a tree falling apart. They wouldn’t see the memories and laughter absorbed into those very walls. They wouldn’t see the faded paint on the floor, a result of a foiled paint bomb. They wouldn’t see the place where the lines between fiction and reality were often greatly blurred.

It was probably for the best.