06

                                    

                                          
You fiddled with the pendant - it's chain hanging loosely around your neck. You blinked, still staring up at the wooden structure that was in front of you.

"So." You began, smiling. "It does exist." 
You were back in the forest, making sure not to follow any butterflies this time around - it seemed to work since you were here, the treehouse right ahead of you. 

You laughed, already walking towards it. "That's not fair - why is their treehouse better than ours were?" It's in way better shape too. Your fingers skimmed along the rough bark, but stopped, feeling a strange indentation - lifting your hand - you see it quickly, initials carved; C. M. 
You squinted, leaning forward, there's a second one - but you couldn't make it out. The first looked like it had been fresh but not necessarily new, seeming to have been etched several times over, a new one covering up remnants of an older version.  

"Geez." You laughed. It wasn't exactly a mystery who those initials were. "Either he loves writing his name, or he has it out for this tree." You shrugged that thought away, mind now suddenly bringing focus on an important part that was missing--

". . . Where's the stairs?" 

You looked around, and circled the large tree but there wasn't a sign of stairs or a ladder anywhere. You groaned, crossing your arms, looking back up towards the treehouse with narrowed eyes. "At least our treehouse had stairs." Nevermind the fact that it was mostly falling apart. 

You huffed, trying to find a way for you to get in that treehouse. There was a small door at it's bottom floor, all you had to do was get up on top of those branches and push it open. "That's it." You almost kick your slippers away - clasping your hands together preparing to climb. 

I haven't climbed any trees in a while. You thought. This. . . This is gonna be something. 

You spotted a branch that was a few feet off the ground, you wrapped your hands around it, testing it so you know it doesn't buckle under your weight - it didn't break. You pushed yourself up, now standing on the branch- you wobbled slightly and with a frightened yelp you wrapped your arms around the trunk of the tree of support. 

You spot another branch and move towards it, continuing the process of: climb up a branch and hang on to the tree as if  your life depended on it and repeat. 

You almost spit. Ugh, leaves got in my mouth. Gross. Your eyes lit up as you spotted the door just overhead - standing to your full height, you pressed your hands against the wooden door and pushed - it opened without much resistance, you climbed up, quickly closing the door back down.

You breathed, sitting down and resting your arms. "That took off like five years off my life." And I still have to climb down. You resisted the urge to cry at that thought. 

You looked down at your hands, dirtied and a bit brushed. I wonder if we still have some of Julieta's cooking left. Your eyes drift off into the corner, spotting something, you stand up and walk towards it - a makeshift shelf full of trinkets that only kids would collect. 

A rock.

You picked it up. "Feels like a knick knack a young me would have." It was only a pretty rock, it feels like it would be a treasure to a kid though. 

You placed it back down, and looked up. There's a framed picture on the wall that caught your attention - taking a  step closer, familiar faces greeted you; a younger version of you, Mirabel and Carlos - when the three of you were around the age of eight or so.