This was my refuge, my hiding place.

Growing up, when my heart wilted and the petals dropped, I ran to my big oak tree.

I turned the sign over, then felt a sigh of relief. The next door neighbors haven’t gotten rid of it yet.

I had all my firsts here—my first steps—which my mother went on and on about—my first word, my first crush—which happened to be my guy Bestfriend. _Everything happened here. _

Even my 15th birthday.

But now, they are threatening to take it away. The neighbors just bought this piece of land, and the chances of them destroying _my_ piece of art—are very high.

I first bonded to this place when I had no where else to go, sometimes I’d cry here, sometimes I’d silently listen to music, other times I would bring my bestfriends here.

This was my home.

It grew flowers in my wilting heart, the petals that dropped, suddenly began to be reborn. My 16th birthday was this year, my heart ached for this place. I studied abroad at a different high school, and begged my parents to let me visit “mon refudge,” it’s what I call _the_ treehouse.

“Tell me!”

“Emma! Tell you _what_ exactly?”

“I know you like him!” She playfully tickled me.

“Fine, I do!”

We both squealed.

“I knew it!”

The memories flashed in my brain. Emma—my Bestfriend—she died just a year ago. Our friendgroup put flowers nearby a tree—her favorite tree—and carved “EG,” Emma garolne.

After her death, our friendgroup countined to split. While it used to be lively and large, now it consists of 4 people. Am I mad? No. But I miss the way it used to be, the times we’d all go to the beach and splash water on each other, the time we’d bought water balloons and had a water ballon fight. Ooh ooh! Or the time we did a race to see who could go the fastest! The times we spent, will forever tie me to Emma. Even though I won’t have Mon Refuge for long, _I know the memories will last forever. _