The Underwater Treehouse

When we got there, I recognised it straight away.

It was just like Pops’ treehouse.

But another one.

It must have grown big, too big.

And fallen into the water.

And now it lives half in the sky and half in the sea.

You have to go through two sets of glass doors to get inside.

I love sliding doors.

Glass ones are my absolute favourite.

Two sets is just perfect!

It’s an airlock to get inside the treehouse.

One after the other.

Like the treehouse is checking if you’re allowed to come in.

I open the doors and let my crew inside.

Mum.

Nathaniel.

Tandy.

Robbie.

I watch the doors close,

and step forward to open them again.

I always do that.

Inside, everything is shiny and loud.

Grown-up voices talking fast.

Bags bumping legs.

Everyone in a hurry.

There is a lady behind a tall desk.

She looks mean, like a crab, with popping out eyes.

She guards the treehouse.

Mum steps forward with her calm face on, the one she wears when she is about to bend the world without breaking it.

They battle with polite voices and quiet, strong words.

Mum wants a bigger room.

The lady says there’s none left.

Mum smiles with her secret weapon smile.

I already know how this will end.

The lady does not know yet.

This is the best part.

Mum always wins these ones. She just doesn’t always notice that I notice.

Then we pass the desk.

And the world opens.

The whole underwater treehouse spreads out in front of me.

High.

So high.

White open hallways rise on every side like ship decks.

Plants spill from every level like magic seaweed that lives in the ocean and the air.

And in the middle: The lagoon.

A living, breathing thing.

Sunlight pours down through the glass ceiling far above and fills the whole place like golden honey.

The water flashes and whispers.

It looks alive, it looks old.

This must be where all the brave water goes when it retires, like Pop.

Old waves.

Tired storms.

The leftover courage from shipwrecks.

I go very still to take in something very big.

Mum thinks I am being quiet because I’m hungry.

I am actually rearranging my understanding of everything.

My chest feels too small for what I am seeing.

Something inside me is trying to grow to fit it.

Also I might need some bikkies.

Both feelings can happen at once.

Then I see it.

The glass box.

The bubble.

I see it whoosh-up.

I wait for it to go sideways through the halls next, it is amazing! Just like magic.

Mum guides us inside and lets me press the button because I’m the captain.

The doors close.

The world drops away.

We rise inside the treehouse like we are floating through water.

My tummy says “Wheeee,”

but my face stays brave.

We get to the first room.

I already know we won’t be staying in this one long.It’s too small.

It is a very nice small.

But we are not small people.

Sure enough, Mum marches back downstairs, telling us to wait here.

I miss Mum.I cry.

Nathaniel and Robbie play with me so I don’t fall apart.

Finally, Mum comes back.

“Pack up, boys. Our real room is ready.”

Hooray, we all cheer!

Tandy says Mum is great at negotiation.

I do not know what negotiation is, but I would like to learn it immediately.

Back to the glass bubble.

This time, we go all the way up.

Our room lives in the sky part of the treehouse.

It has a twisty, spinny staircase inside it like a shell that grew legs.

A perfect road for cars to practise flying.

I already know some of them will not survive the training. But it’s important to try.

I am too scared to go up.

Nathaniel goes first.

I trust him, so up I go too.

One hand on the rail.

My favourite purple car clutched in the other.

My purple car races down the stairs.

Faster every time.

It is fun.

But the lagoon is calling.

So we go back down.

I wrap myself in a stripey blue-and-white pirate towel.

The kind captains wear.

Mum puts my floaty vest on and tells me I’m safe.

I already know I’m safe.

I also know slow is sometimes smarter than fast.

Fast is loud.

Slow is how you hear the secrets.

The deep water looks like it remembers things.

Nathaniel goes first.

Nathaniel is the one who follows rules like they are written into his bones.

He listens.

He checks.

He obeys.

And then once it’s allowed he becomes unstoppable.

He moves through the world like a police officer with superpowers.

Climbing.

Jumping.

Running straight into danger (once danger has been officially approved, of course).

I watch him carefully.

I am storing his bravery for later.

Just in case I need it.

Robbie jumps straight into the deep because Robbie is the biggest and does not need floaties.

He makes the biggest splash.Nathaniel jumps next, his vest and goggles on, pinching his nose tight.

And I stand at the edge like a pirate who does not follow rules…but always watches them first so I know the best way to break them.

There is a hot foamy circle to one side that looks like a monster’s bath.

A tall fountain that falls from the roof.

And a small pretty blue step with a tiny shining mouth that bubbles up water so softly.

I want to touch it.

I walk in.

I splash.

Only there.

Nathaniel becomes something else now.

Like a sea monster.

Big muscles.

Strong feet.

The loudest voice.

He’s swimming through the deepest water and isn’t scared at all.

There’s another circle next to my bubbly step.

It isn’t deep.

And the water is perfectly still.

My crew all come over and hop in this part.

Even Mum.

I love it when Mum gets in.

She holds out her arms to me.

But I’m not ready yet.

I want to watch and learn.

They start to run.

The water stops being still.

It turns.

Spins.

Becomes a circle that goes on and on and on.

A whirlpool.

The brave old lagoon remembers it can spin the world.

My chest tightens with wonder and wanting.

I stretch my arms out to Mum.Not words.Just truth.

Lift me.

She brings me into the centre like placing a jewel into a crown.

I accept this position.

The world moves around me while I stay still.

Water rushes.

Bodies blur.

Nathaniel runs brave and loud and amazing.

Mum is laughing.

Tandy and Robbie are racing.

I splash the water.

The water splashes me back.

I am not fearless.

But I am ready.

And everyone is bending rules, even the water, and I love it so much I forget to be afraid.

I am the captain of bending the rules.

This is a very difficult job.

You tend to get yelled at a lot.

But someone has to do it.

History will thank me.

I feel like I fall through the world for a moment.

There is no outside anymore.

Only the underwater treehouse.

Only my crew.

Only now.

Later, we set off for an adventure outside the old treehouse.

We ride our bikes along the river.

Robbie and Tandy have skateboards.

They are very fast.

Nathaniel swaps between his skateboard and his bike because he has many skills.

I might not have skills yet.

But I do have ambition.

I go very fast.

“Westley, slow down!” Mum calls from behind.

So I go very slow.

“Not that slow,” she calls from ahead now.

So I go fast again.

Then slow.

Then fast.

Then zigzag.

I am trying out every speed to see which one suits me best.

“Follow the rules,” Mum says in her serious voice.

But I don’t.

I want to be like the big boys.

Fast like Robbie.

Fun like Tandy.

Capable like Nathaniel.

Instead, I am…

All of them at once.

I zoom.

I wobble.

I swerve.

Mum says my name in that voice.

The one that means that she means it.

And then—

CRASH.

I hit Mum’s ankle.

The bad one.

The special one.

The one from the motorbike story that happened before I was born but still lives in our house.

Mum falls.

Mum cries.

My tummy drops through the path and into the river.

I abandon my bike.

I launch myself at Mum.

“MUM,” I say, in my emergency voice.

I kiss her ankle very seriously.

“Sorry Mum,” I say.

My sorry is so big it nearly tips me over.

Mum wipes her face.

She breathes in.

She breathes out.

I become sensible.

Not pretend sensible.

Not “I’ll be good for ten seconds” sensible.

Real sensible.

I walk my bike.

I hold the rules in both hands, and it takes all of my concentration.

Because breaking the rules is fun.

But breaking Mum is not good.

Not even a little bit.

We reach the ice cream shop very calmly.

I get green ice cream.

Like my bike.

Mum kisses my cheek and says she forgives me,

but I don’t remember what for.

We find a pirate playground.Nathaniel climbs everything first so the rules are checked,

And that means I can now ignore them safely.

Robbie steers our wooden boat through the sand

because he is the biggest.

Mum stands next to Tandy and watches the sky change colour

like she is reading a story written just for her.

Orange.

Pink.

Purple.

For one perfect moment, everyone is quiet.

Then the Christmas lights come on.

I jump on flashing colours and climb Christmas boxes.

Birthdays are wonderful, I know what they are now.

They have cake.

Last week was my birthday.

Today is Robbie’s birthday.And next, Jesus’ birthday, that’s the one that is my favourite of all because Nan makes cookies which are even better than cake.

But I still hope it has cake too.

At dinner, fish swim behind glowing glass like they are still in the ocean.One starfish watches me closely.We respect each other from a distance.

I lift my balance bike up onto the picnic bench so I can sit on it while we eat.Tandy holds me with one arm as I wobble tall.

He always holds space for me to be me, safely.

I eat all of my chippies (and some of Tandy’s too).

Back in the treehouse, Mum builds us a ship from couches.

I climb inside with my blue Ted, my favourite blanket and my bottle.

It was too cold, I sent mum to warm it up right.

Nathaniel runs upstairs with Robbie to get blankets.

Pillows and sheets fall from above like slow soft sails as they throw them down.

When the lights go low, the stars come out.

All of us cuddle up together in the pillow ship.

Nathaniel tells rules.

I break them.

Everyone laughs.

This is why we work so well together.

And I go to sleep inside our ship,inside the underwater treehouse,knowing the lagoon will still be there when I wake up.

And so will Nathaniel.Running first.

Making it safe to be brave.