Four Walls and a Roof

My barn is only a few yards from my house. It’s just past the old handcrafted tree fort that screams and entices little ones to explore and sets their imaginations wild! On the outside of my old red barn sat four round antic beer barrels sliced in half and filled to the brim with potting soil, tulips and Gerber daisies that’s lined the cliché white fence. What was once a brilliant red glossy coat of paint that graced the walls of the barn, with crisp white trim that laced and complemented the unique architecture of the barn, is now chipped and lacks the luster of its youth. There were two oversized windows that, over time the trim thickened with the window paint seaming itself together as one, as though they were only for decoration never for convenience. In the summer the grimy window pains provided convenience to countless daddy long legs and a plethora of other eight-legged critters.

My barn housed four horses, two cats, an occasional goat and at least a dozen chickens. Inside endless mounds of neatly packed, bailed to perfection hay, filled the old rustic barn with a sweet, fresh aroma. I remember the bittersweet smell of open grain buckets that not only feed the mouths horses and chickens, but the little brown nosed, long tailed pests that scurried about rummaging for scraps of forgotten pieces of grain and apple cores. It was never quiet in my barn the, sounds of hooves stomping and chickens parading around squawking and clucking while pecking at the hard ground. The plump tabby cat sits pestering the mare’s once long tail; snarls and jigs moving promptly to avoid the anticipated swift kick of the mare’s back hooves. Together, it’s a symphony of harmonious chatter and dismay joined with the boisterous sound of the rain beating down on the tin roof. Old and broken beaten and battered, this barn was loved and cherished with childlike enthusiasm. In the barn resided limitless possibilities for a creative mind. Hundreds of hiding palaces that then became secret forts where only by password could you enter! The memories I have are fresh and treasured. Memories of playing in the giant heaps of shavings that smelled of pine, and the animals that became my closest of friends. This barn holds value to me, perhaps more than I realize. It was the place my mom and I spent endless hours grooming the horses and mucking the stalls together. It was a place that linked two human beings of complete opposites together. My small meek little red barn is insurmountable in my heart because it’s a refuge for the things I once loved and cared for.