Adulthood may toss a few favorite childhood staples: bubblegum flavored ice cream, monkey bars and Pop Rocks.
But there is a quintessential childhood fantasy that follows many into double digits, and is classic and timeless as Peter Pan — treehouses.
Growing up, I always wanted a treehouse.
The closest I came was my grandparent’s concrete storm cellar. When I wanted to hide from the world, my refuge was on top of its concrete domed roof.
With the assistance of a neighboring kumquat tree, I would climb its branches, step onto the cellar’s roof.
The world never bothered me up there. Time was still and allowed me to get lost in an imaginative world.
Life was easy when my feet were 30 feet off the ground.