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To some, this may only look like an old, dilapidated, worn-out barn that needs to be torn down but to me it was so much more as was the land that surrounded it. Myself and my cousins had acres upon acres upon which to grow, learn, discover and breathe. This barn and the farm around it was my escape from the hard realities of life and childhood. It was here that I could run, play, climb, scream, laugh, pretend and mostly just be myself. This barn was where I first discovered my deep connections to nature. I spent hours with my legs hanging over the edge of that loft writing my dreams, thoughts, desires and pain into my little pink diary. I sit there listening to the birds, the sounds of my Papa working on another project in his workshop, watching my Granny Woods in the fields of her garden, the smell of dirt, fresh vegetables and freshly cut wood filling my senses. When I was eight years old, the freshly cut smell of wood stopped as my Papa went on to see Jesus. We still had my granny though and after that my great Aunt Dorothy became a more frequent visitor. My cousins and myself grew up helping my great aunt and my granny shell peas, pick vegetables from the garden, take my granny's wheelbarrow to and from wherever she needed it. I learned to love the feel of the dirt under my fingernails and the smell of freshly turned dirt became a nostalgia for me.

I spent every summer at that farm and every weekend my parents would allow. I can recall in my mind's eye every field, can still feel the dirt and hay beneath my feet and remember what it felt like to jump hay bails with my cousins. The hay was scratchy to my skin and rough on my bare feet but I didn't care. Sometimes I would fall in between the hay bails, it would leave me covered in hay and dirt. I can recall laughing and climbing back up to try again. In the fields behind the old barn, there was a small spring creek. My Papa kept a glass mug hanging on a tree branch there so we could all get us some fresh spring water. I can still taste the clear cold water going down my throat. That was the best water in the world. I remember the well house where my granny kept her gardening tools. The well where we drew water for the garden. The pond that was in the fields behind my grandmother's house that we would fish in when the grass wasn't too high. "Watch out for snakes." the adults would warn. The world was our oyster. We were invincible or so we thought at the time. Rather we were jumping from the loft in the barn or climbing down the rope from the back of the barn we had no fear. Time passed as it does and when it came time for boyfriends and girlfriends I brought my highschool sweetheart to my precious barn. I wanted him to see my barn, this barn that helped build me. I learned so much within the walls of this barn, shared so many secrets and tears. So many hopes and dreams sent out on the wind from the loft or through the open slats where pieces of the roof was missing. I would say that life was simpler then but it had it's own set of problems but on the farm, in the barn, in those fields I could be...just be. The old barn is gone now, torn down for safety reasons. My granny has went to see Jesus and be with my Papa. My great aunt Dorothy is gone as well. The land that my family owned no longer belongs to us and that's okay. We had our time but of one thing I'm sure, that old, worn out barn helped build me.