I remember, as a kid, building forts with my sister, and our cousin. The three of us spent every spare moment we had at our grandparents' house. We would race around outside. Or try to think up ways to make money - our best idea was holding mini-carnival games and charging Grandpa a quarter to play each one. Or we would climb trees.* Or play with the neighbor kids.
But mostly, we would build blanket forts. Usually, outside, because Grandma would have had a fit if we had messed up her house with one. For that matter, she probably would have had a fit if she knew we were using her good sheets outdoors to build forts. Grandpa was our secret ally in all of this, as he was in everything, sneaking sheets out to us, and then helping us to build the fort in a place where Grandma was least likely to glance out the window at us.
We would sit out there, shaded, but with soft breezes finding their way in, and talk. Occasionally, we would play cards, or some other game. But mostly, it was a secret place to talk. I learned so much about my sister, my cousin, and myself in those forts. Of all the things I miss from my childhood, the chats we had in those forts comes in toward the top of the list.
And last week, I passed on the tradition to Miles.
This one is pretty small, mainly because it was done on the spur of the moment, and without the proper supplies. But, Miles found it to be adequate for eating in. Dominic guarded the doorway. I couldn't fit inside with them, so I sat on the floor nearby, and we talked and laughed all afternoon.
*Well, one tree. It was the only one big enough to climb. We called it the Cousin's Tree.