It is gone now, it was torn out to make room for an addition on the house. I think that I was 20, which means that the tree that was my hideout and secret place has been gone for 16 years now.
I used to climb it daily, rest in it’s branches and use it as a launching pad onto the roof of the house. There was a section in which two branches met perfectly, intersected to form a perfect chair. A seat that I could use for my thinking. A seat that was comfortable and it allowed me enough comfort to sleep, to nap.
It was my sanctuary, my fortress and the place I hid from the world in. My tree is gone now, forever removed from the earth, but eternally burnt upon my mind.