Old Memories

The flaking light blue paint dusted my hands as I opened the old barn. The old hinges groaned as the heavy wood carved a crude gash into the dried soil outside. The inside handle was almost pulled free as I put my weight into swinging the door closed.

The decrepit barn was massive, with no clear sight of the back wall amongst the scattered towers of boxes and hanging ropes and chains. Orange rays of light beamed through the cracks in the walls, and the particles that hung in the air danced as each of my exerted breaths billowed the oppressive layered dust.

The heavy rolled-up carpet dug into the dirt before stopping against the rubber foot mats laid out over the ground. Goddamnit. I pulled the bundle up over the lip with a lurch and let it fall to the mat. The towers of boxes wobbled and leaned listlessly to one side as the carpet weighed on the near-useless rubber mats.

Why did he have to store everything in this damn barn?

The culmination of three generations worth of garbage was piled up around me. Clear plastic tubs of various nicknacks were no longer transparent as the unsecured lids let spiders and all manner of pests inside. The order was indeterminable close to the entrance. Belongings were packaged up and left forgotten in this ageing building as whichever of the children left home.

Is there even space to move in here? I hoisted one end of the carpet up under my arm and began dragging it through the rows of poorly archived history.

My late uncle Daniel's sports memorabilia was the first thing I knocked over, and the disintegrating cardboard box of jerseys and sneakers soon followed. Tarnished brass trophies dotted around a single pile of crap in the one clear space available for refuse. Old toys, stuffed animals, DVDs and books, even photo albums were unceremoniously discarded in a shrine to uncle Daniel. Amongst the rubble, a single photograph of him showed him smiling and holding a beer. The empty look in his eyes matched the emptied buckshot shell that lay beside the picture.

The weight of the rolled carpet was beginning to hurt. I swapped my arms and kept pushing forward. The narrow turns and over stacked towers made the haul arduous for no reason. Thankfully, the rubber mats let up as unfolded cardboard boxes started to line the dry and dusty barn floor.

The smell of motor oil and sweat hung in the air, thankfully taking away from the arid earthy smell that hung in the air. Grandfather's old tractor was propped against an old but sturdy tool chest with all manner of filthy and stained rags stiff and protruding from under the lid. The unmoving beast's askew frame was embedded in the ground. The feeble attempt at hollowing out space beneath screamed in futility as loud as the barn stunk of oil.

I skirted around the old brown tractor and finally eschewed the maze of boxes. My sister's workstation was coated in dust and protected under a barrier of cobwebs were an array of old tools along the scarred benchtop. Underneath, the shelves were packed tight with little tubs of screws and nails. Old rags soaked through with oils and grease dotted the tubs and looked to hold firmer than the barn's support beams. Just how she left it.

Her buckled wheelchair was folded against the workbench. The wheels were rusted to a stop and crudely aligned. Any attempt at spinning them disturbed the surrounding spiders that crawled ominously along the cobwebs connecting to the broken jack left clattered on the floor. The bent lifting arm and snapped in two lever was kept almost as a warning after the first accident. Her final straw was after attempting maintenance on an engine block when the metal block collapsed on her. She should have stopped after the tractor...

I dropped one half of the carpet over the discarded engine block and then pushed the back half over. The lopsided fabric was beginning to be too coarse for my hands, but I still went forward. Once I had moved past the cardboard flooring, old, decayed straw littered the ground and grated against the carpet. It can't get dirtier than it already is.

From what I can assume is the back rightmost support beam, just below the opening to the loft above was Grandma's carved initials into the wood grain. The crude carving was adorned with a skilful engraving of a heart around the letters. At the base where the ladder once was, pristinely kept boxes were taped tight. Each box had a clear space in the dust where the label had peeled off, and the adhesive remained. Grandma's only thing on display was a ratty, mothballed, hole-ridden summer dress hanging from two coat hangers tied off from a dangling rope.

He never did forgive himself for not fixing that ladder rung sooner.

I slumped the carpet to the ground and began to drag it to the edge of the narrowing enclosure of boxes. I paused for a deep breath before swiping the thick canvas sheet in the center of the room and stood back. Despite holding my breath, I could feel the fetid stench waft from beneath. Bracing myself against the support beam, I kicked the carpet to unfurl it towards the uncovered hole. With a short few rotations, Grandpa rolled out and tumbled into the shallow pit.

I pinched my collar up over my nose and took an ill-advised breath. A single shred of orange light shone into the crude hole. The old man's bile crusted face stared back up at me. His arms splayed and laying across uncle Daniel and my sister. Beneath him, Grandma lay in much the same way. The cold, soulless stare back up to me glimmered in the waning light.

I covered the pit up and rolled the now much lighter carpet into a tight roll. I stood it up against the wooden support beam on the adjacent side to Grandma's initials. A rusted nail stuck out from the wood, and hanging from it was an immaculate gold chain and locket. The small heart was opened, and a decades-old photo of Grandma stared back at me. The familial antiquity brought a smile to my face, and I shook my head as I made my way back to the entrance.

With each step, the weight I was laden with lessened and a gradual relief set inside me. By the time I had closed the barn door, all the pain I felt had left my mind.