A crude ladder fashioned of rough cut 2×4’s and reused nails leaned against one exterior wall. The aforementioned walls were covered in scraps of plywood that did not denote any real craftsmanship, but plenty of imagination. There were no traditional doors probably because the builder had a lack of hinges, but we will pretend it was to make the fort more secure. Once the young lad with ten to twelve years of living reached the top, the secret trap door was raised to reveal the spacious twenty-five or so square feet. No ladder existed on the inside. Just hold the edge of the roof and drop. Drop to the dirt floor. He wishes he could remember the décor in more vivid details. Surely some cap guns were just out of sight but within reach. This was a fort after all and had to be defended from bandits and enemies of all kinds. A wooden box was dug into the ground and lightly covered in dirt to hide valuables. Maybe a few coins, a knife, some hot wheels? He doesn’t remember. The real treasure would be the memories, but he wouldn’t know that for a while.
I have always been intrigued by such structures. I built my girls a slightly bigger version with real doors and windows. Pink trim and white walls setting high upon stilts. Later they got a hidden room in the attic with carpet, and primary colors splashed on the walls. For the next generation, the grandson got a tree house, the granddaughter, a playhouse. Each new fort got a little better workman and a more relaxed budget.
Although my age changed, I have played in every one of them. It’s not the location or the construction, it’s the permission to pretend. Forts are good places to dream. To connect with little people on their level. To dismiss reality and play for a while.
Men have started to realize that forts are still cool, even if you’re a Pawpaw. Man caves. Lake houses. Game rooms. Hunting cabins. All just fancy names for forts.
A few months ago, I started another. Like the first, this one was for me. I built it a dozen times within the space between my ears. No written plans were needed, I could see it before it was started. The location was selected on a bluff three stories or more above my home. Octagon was the selected shape which led to more 22 ½ degree angles than I care to recall. A full glass door on one wall and seven large windows on the others. The outside was painted fiery cedar and topped with black shingles on the eight-sided rotunda. Wooded steps take you up the last bit of the climb.
The inside is all covered and trimmed in yellow and red cedar. A steam punk style light hangs above the greyed vinyl plank floor and octagon rug. The only furniture is two leather recliners, a custom eight-sided end table and a record player.
My phone is never allowed. Forts shouldn’t have emails or to do lists. No TV mounted on the wall. Just two built-in speakers with an extensive playlist. It’s a place to rest. A place to escape the busy world. A place to visit one-on-one. A place to read, pray, and write.
The sun is slinking behind the oaks as I wrap this one up. The mowed yard looks perfect as juxtaposed to the untouched woods in the next frame. Each window is a portrait that changes with the seasons. From this point the world is at peace.
My world stopped when I stepped inside over an hour ago. During that time, there has been conflict in the world, breaking news has probably been announced, and people have scurried from place to place. I may have calls and texts to respond to, but they will wait. Time is on hold.
On a ship, the highest literal position was the crow’s nest. Positioned near the top of the main mast, the occupant was first to see and warn of the dangers and challenges that weren’t visible from the deck. This fort is my crow’s nest.
I was not surprised at the way this building turned out, but I am pleasantly shocked as to how it makes me feel. I like this fort. I am an imaginative boy again while at the same time, an aging man looking ahead. I see better from up here.
If you are in the neighborhood, stop by for a conversation and sign the guest book. Or I’ll leave you a key for a solo visit and you can hit pause on life for a while. I think you might like the crow’s nest.
