My Secret Childhood Place

As a child the old treehouse was the best hiding place.  It had these dfark knots in the base that I used as a ladder to climb into its high limbs.  The treehouse had no door but an opening just big enough to squeeze into.  There were no windows just three solid walls the ceiling was the branches themselves lush and green in the summer.  During the summer you could be part of the family Robinson or just read the comic books that my mom did not like me to read.  My sister was not strong enough to climb the tree, she would stand at the base screaming up at me but never be able to actually see me hiding there.  Laying on the floor I could peak down through the doorway of the aged wood and see if she was still there.  I never was sure when she would give up and go get mom.