our little treehouse

The last of the January light always pools on the apartment floor in the morning, finally growing warm after two months of sharp chill. This has been yet another unseasonably warm month which has added spring bulbs, profuse jasmine flowering, and birdsong to these first days of the year.

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This little place feels as though it has finally found its balance. There are no more tricks or trials, everything fits together just so, and provides all of the functions we want. Except the biggest one, which is collaborating with other artists and comfortably seating more than four people.

But, looking around, for these past four years and all that we’ve done and seen and discovered, we couldn’t have asked for a better nest.

The loft my father and I built has decidedly had the most impact. Especially now that we have finally gotten a little club chair to go underneath. A tray slipped next to the chair can be pulled out and placed on the bed so that morning reading can include coffee or tea.

It isn’t until I go back to previous pictures of our kitchen that I realize how much has changed. It’s been a slow, quiet, yet deliberate shift towards wood, ceramic, terracotta, white, and green. We’ve now created so many of the things we use day to day from dishes to the utensil pot to our ramekins that the whole place feels alive.

I will absolutely mourn leaving this place. It’s been the first space that I got to craft with someone else and discover the synergy of weaving two lives together. I will miss the simplicity of cleaning such a small space and being able to reach anything I might want in five steps or less. I will miss walking out onto the street on a cold day and heading off towards a favorite haunt. I will miss being two blocks from some of the best fresh produce in the city.

I will not miss the panicked feeling of my heart syncing to the leather bar’s incessant bass while I’m trying to fall asleep. I will not miss being heckled by neighbors or having my packages opened. I will not miss the oppressive summer heat magnified by the glass, concrete, and smokey surround of the city.

But this place. This little piece of the city that we’ve cared for, crafted, and loved…I will miss this little treehouse dearly.