The Forgotten Playhouse
By Angie Bromeland
The old playhouse was nearly caved in from all those years of being forgotten. But when Bruce and Kate arrived at its doorway, the playhouse seemed to sigh with relief. It sensed a new life was coming. It would be much easier to survive another winter if it was treated with care once more. Bruce and Kate were both thinking the same thing. They looked at each other and smiled. “Let’s get to work,” they said together. They couldn’t wait to make this little forgotten playhouse their own. Moss and lichen covered the windows and the roof sagged. Kate and Bruce peered inside. Sunlight streamed in through the open door. “It isn’t safe with the roof like that,” Bruce said. So he and Kate gathered long, sturdy sticks. Bruce used his knife to cut pieces of twine and tie the sticks together. Then, they stood the bundled sticks in the middle of the playhouse, pushing the ceiling back where it belonged. “Did your Mom pack us any snacks?” Bruce asked. Kate shook her head. “No, but I did!” she giggled and pulled out a can of black olives from the small backpack she carried. “How are we supposed to open it?” Bruce chafed. Kate dug in her bag again and grinned as she pulled out the tool they needed. She cranked the can open and they dug in. Their fingers were doused in olive juice. It was a strange snack, but one they both enjoyed. Feeling revived after eating every last olive in the can, they looked around the little house. The windows needed washing, the floor needed sweeping, the curtains needed a good shake. Now that the roof was supported again, the little house should stand a good long while. This little forgotten playhouse was about to live again.
The old playhouse was nearly caved in from all those years of being forgotten. But when Bruce and Kate arrived at its doorway, the playhouse seemed to sigh with relief. It sensed a new life was coming. It would be much easier to survive another winter if it was treated with care once more. Bruce and Kate were both thinking the same thing. They looked at each other and smiled. “Let’s get to work,” they said together. They couldn’t wait to make this little forgotten playhouse their own. Moss and lichen covered the windows and the roof sagged. Kate and Bruce peered inside. Sunlight streamed in through the open door. “It isn’t safe with the roof like that,” Bruce said. So he and Kate gathered long, sturdy sticks. Bruce used his knife to cut pieces of twine and tie the sticks together. Then, they stood the bundled sticks in the middle of the playhouse, pushing the ceiling back where it belonged. “Did your Mom pack us any snacks?” Bruce asked. Kate shook her head. “No, but I did!” she giggled and pulled out a can of black olives from the small backpack she carried. “How are we supposed to open it?” Bruce chafed. Kate dug in her bag again and grinned as she pulled out the tool they needed. She cranked the can open and they dug in. Their fingers were doused in olive juice. It was a strange snack, but one they both enjoyed. Feeling revived after eating every last olive in the can, they looked around the little house. The windows needed washing, the floor needed sweeping, the curtains needed a good shake. Now that the roof was supported again, the little house should stand a good long while. This little forgotten playhouse was about to live again.
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