Life Goes On

Once I was young, like you, and cherished. My beams, broad and strong, easily supported the countless bales of hay thrown high into my loft. Rows of stalls and piles of feed supplies for the horses were no problem. I felt privileged to attend daily concerts from the dozens of birds chirping gaily while enjoying a perch on my rafters. My wrought iron hooks were tight and secure and held the family's beloved saddles. My shelving was sturdy, designed to hold any and all miscellaneous items. Water troughs sat perfectly level on my wood hewn floors, and could be filled right to the tippy top. I was so glad my family could count on me to never spill a drop. The family cared for me wonderfully and I always tried my very hardest to please them. 

Did I tell you about my roof? My roof was top of the line. (No pun intended) It was truly the gold standard for all other roofs. No ordinary wooden shingles here; my roof was slate. I had the very first slate roof in the community and I held it up with grace and strength. 

My family demonstrated their pride and caring in so many ways. Long even brush strokes felt like a warm caress as I was painted a deep barn-red. Then, they went out and got glass-real glass!-to fill my panes. What a clear unfettered view of the world I had!

I loved when my family spent time with me. I was grateful they came by often. Every single day, at least one family member came to sweep my floor and chase away cobwebs. My hinges were oiled regularly and never squeaked; repairs were made immediately. Oh! Life was grand. 

Years went by and I was happy. I anticipated each change of season with excitement, never knowing what new delights they would bring.

Summertime was my favorite. The family children had no school and they brought their many friends around. My wooden doors were held wide open as they ran in and out, in and out. They played pranks and got up to mischief and took advantage of the chance to just be the kids that they were. They did not have a care in the world, and I would laugh mightily at their antics. Sometimes they would hide up in my loft amid the piles of hay, giggling and sharing secrets. I could not help but hear it all, but I believe children deserve their secrets and a place to safely share them. I was glad my walls had been chosen as that special place. I honored their secrets and to this day, I still guard them tightly. 

Spring and Fall brought newborns, all kinds of newborns. The horses had their foals, all spindly legged and wobbly. I watched them all the time and when those first few steps were successfully taken-Wow! I felt like a proud Mama. The family dog had her cozy spot, just to the right of the last stall, for birthing her puppies every year. One year she had seven! Seven wiggly squiggly fur balls that were so cute I never wanted them to grow up and move on. They always did though and I knew it was for the best. I mourned their departures in secret. Finally, our menagerie would be joined by countless litters of kittens, squawking bird babies, and fluffy bunnies learning to hop. The more, the merrier, was the motto under my roof!

Winters, well winters were hard at times. It was so cold! I would shake and shiver when the winds blew through me. Ice formed on my walls causing my boards to splinter or crack. And when it melted and dried, streaks of mold and mildew remained. Those types of things were quite unpleasant, but easily remedied.  

Not so easily remedied was the loneliness. The loneliness was the worst. I did not know how to fix it. Other than a daily sweep of my floors and quick feed of the horses, my family rarely visited. They preferred to stay snug and warm inside the big house. I understood of course, and didn't hold it against them. But I ached with the loneliness. Sometimes it was so bad I let my boards creak as loudly as they wanted, just to break the silence and hide my tears.

Now don't get me wrong, Winter was not all bad. In fact, much of it was good. Of all the seasons, I considered Winter the most beautiful. The sky always seemed bluer than blue, the sun brighter than bright. Snow would cover the ground in piles of sparkling softness. When the winds blew, the sparkles flew into the air in crazy dancing patterns. I laughed with delight as hanging icicles turned sunbeams to rainbows and shot them out onto the snow. Mother Nature puts on one heck of a show in the Winter.

By now you must be wondering what happened. How did I go from such an idyllic beginning to what I am now? Why am I lying here, rotting away? What happened?

I wish I could tell you that it had been an unforeseen tragedy, or unavoidable event. But I can't, it wasn't. There was no singular catastrophic occurrence, no unavoidable calamity. 

No. My dramatic demise began almost imperceptibly. I thought nothing of it when a seasonal paint touch-up was missed. I didn't notice when my floors remained un-swept for a few days. I didn't even pay attention when the last horse died and no new ones were brought into my waiting stalls. Everything had been so wonderful for so long that the possibility of change never occurred to me. I guess you could call it an overabundance of confident complacency.

At first I was just confused. I looked about and was taken aback by the state of disrepair. I wondered about my family and where they were. How long since I had seen them? Surely they would not have knowingly let this happen to me. I had always given them my all!

I turned my gaze upon the big house, trying desperately to find an answer. I saw the stately edifice, not a single sign of neglect, staring back at me stone-faced and emotionless. The longer I looked, the more anger set in, the more resentment began to build. These emotions fed on each other and, like a runaway train, a crash was practically destined to happen. 

Once, I would have scoffed at the very notion of a crash. But reality set in quickly and the once impossible became not only likely, but imminent. I panicked. All rational thought flew out the proverbial window as the last remaining real-glass pane fell to the ground. Horrified, I watched as tiny, splintered shards of glass threw out tiny rainbows from the sun.

I gave up. I let terror overtake me and I just. let. go. 

In unison, my once strong beams fell. No longer strong, but still quite heavy, they smashed through the rafters, broke the loft in half and demolished my stalls. The noise was deafening and seemed to echo in my head until my ears were ringing with pain.

Yet no one came. I lay on the ground, a tangled, twisted heap. I bore my pain and waited and waited, but no one came.

Until now. You are here now. I look up and I see you looking down at me with the same youthful pride I once felt. For a brief moment I am envious. But as the sun bounces off of your real-glass windows, I realize you have my eyes. Suddenly it all makes sense. You and I are where we are supposed to be, exactly when we are supposed to be. I am free to go.

My descent into the ground begins and I join with the earth. The soil is warm and moist as it surrounds me and I like it. I linger there for a moment and then continue. No resistance hinders my widening spread through buried roots and dormant seeds. I reach up through blades of bright green grass and follow veins of pure water down to the source. I am everywhere and everything. I always have been.