“…i remember when she turned eleven. because that was the beginning of the end. i was fortunate back then (as i still am today) that there were other, fellow, tree-houses in my cul-de-sac that i could compare such things with. certainly no tree-house nearby was (and still not) as grand, inviting or capacitating as i was (and still am). but they all had their kids just as i had my daphne. and daphne was truly the most fortunate child on the block. all my space and all my love was all for herself. every child in the neighborhood wanted to be daphne. every child wanted to have me up their tree. and every tree-house in town wanted to be like me.
those were the good years. those eleven years. daphne’s father built me when she was born. he built me before he knew- before anybody knew- how much she would love me. he started walking her up my ladder before she could walk. she crawled around my floor before she could talk. one day, daphne’s father simply stopped- on his way past the top the ladder- depositing daphne into my sturdy wooden lap. she was only four and i knew then that his trust in me was deep in his bones, like my devotion to his daughter was deep as my roots. anyway i raised that girl for eleven years as a tree-house, tree-fort, hide-out, club-house, home-base, stake-out, safe-house, sleepover-house, haunted-house, secret-house… you name it- as a tree-house- i’ve been it. it was when she turned eleven that things…”
and if i find more of the excerpt i’ll be sure to fill you in.