A Different Kind of Life

My feet drag across the ground as though my shoes are made of cement rather than the soaked fabric that clings to my feet. My chest feels just as heavy as I make my way through the thick mud that covers the ground. Slowly, stumbling from my heavy shoes and my weak knees. Rain falls in sheets. It soaked me the moment I stepped out of the house and I'm grateful for it. Sunshine on a day like today would be insult to injury.

There's only one place to go today. One place that is safe.

I make my way to the old red barn. Once it had been a brilliant shade of red with its white outlines but now, the paint was peeling and the doors opened onto an empty, lifeless den.

Long ago the cattle were sold to pay medical bills. The horses followed. The days spent arranging wildflowers from the back meadow into jars to decorate the windows were just a distant dream. The nights sitting there, listening to the owls hoot and the crickets chirp were nothing more than a memory.

Even Alberta, the beautiful white-faced owl who lived in the barn for so many years, was gone. Never again would she hoot and poke her head up from her corner when we came in. Never again would her owlets chirp in their nest, hungry and waiting for their mother to return.

Never again.

I stare into the darkness of the barn. Once it was so full of life but now it is empty, just like my chest.

Falling to the ground, my knees hit the mud, soaking my jeans. My fingers curl into the hard-packed dirt inside the door, gripping nothing.

"Why did you have to go?" I ask, the first of the sobs breaking through despite my efforts to keep them at bay. "Why, why, why?" I say, pounding my fists into the ground until they hurt.

Curling up on the ground, I let go of my dignity and I let the sorrow wash over me until I have nothing left to give. No tears fall from my eyes and I just lay there, staring into the darkness and listening to the pounding of the rain.

"Wash me away," I beg as I close my eyes, picturing a giant wave lifting the barn with me inside and just carrying us away. Somewhere that we could be young again; new. Somewhere that life could start over and I could spend my time cherishing those short moments we had together, braiding flowers into each other's hair, playing hide and seek, and laughing.

Oh, how I'm going to miss her laugh.

Like this barn, life is going to be so empty without her.

My lips press together as another wave of grief washes over me. I gasp for air, unable to cry anymore but unable to stop.

"Mama," I say, hoping she can hear me. "Why did you have to go?"

I don't expect an answer and I won't get one, but as I lay on the floor, trying to remember how to breathe, I hear it.

Squeak. Squeak. Squeak.

I lay still to listen as something scampers across one of the stall doors, scurrying through the hay. Lifting my head, I don't see the source at first. Instead, my eyes find the web of a spider in the corner, her sack of eggs barely visible in the darkness as she waits for them to make their way into the world.

Pushing myself up slowly, my eyes sweep the darkness for any more signs. My eyes find the source of the scurrying as a mouse hurries by me with something in its mouth. Hesitant, I get to my feet, following the little mouse as she slips into her hole. As she returns home, I can hear the excited squeaks of her babies as she offers them her find of the day.

Those mice would have never been able to live here while Alberta was around. The barn owl was a great hunter and kept all sorts of rodents away. With her gone, they were allowed to live.

Sitting back, I looked around, realizing only then that the barn wasn't empty at all. It was different but just as full of life.

My gaze sweeps to the door to the outside world, moving down the path I'd taken here and past the old truck in the drive that hadn't run for as long as I could remember. Through the window of my house, I can see my dad sitting in his chair and staring into space. I'd lost my mother this day and he'd lost his wife. My heart aches for him. It was years sooner than anyone had expected. His hair had barely started to grey. There were many years left that should have been spent with her.

Wiping a tear from my eye, I'm about to sit back down when chirping sounded from above. I look up to see a scarlet cardinal dancing on the rafters to her nest and settling in quietly, humming her song happily.

The barn was full of life. It just looked different now.

Now I know what I need to do. Sprinting my way down the slippery path, I take the porch steps two at a time, leaving a trail of mud in my wake as I hurry through the door.

"Dad," I call as I make my way into the living room, falling to my knees in front of his chair. "Our lives aren't empty daddy," I tell him earnestly. "Our lives are just different. Like the barn."

He looks down at me with his sorrow-filled eyes, tears brimming them. I've never seen him cry before today and it hurts my soul that the strongest man I know is hurting this deeply. But I understand why. I am too.

For a moment, I'm not sure if he's going to say anything but he touches my hair and takes a great, shaky breath. "Your mother said those same words when your grandmother died." He explained, wiping at his eye with his hand. "She used to spend days out there with your grandmother, canning foods, and caring for the animals. The day your grandma died, your mama knelt down just like you are now and said the same thing. I'm going to miss her so, but she was right and so are you.

Our lives aren't empty. They're just full of a different kind of life."