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- 01/14/2025
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Names, places, characters, events, and incidents are based on the authors' lives and experiences and may be changed to protect personal information. Any resemblances to actual persons (living or dead), organizations, companies, events, or locales are entirely coincidental.
Note: While authors are asked to place warnings on their stories for some moderated content, everyone has different thresholds, and it is your responsibility as a reader to avoid stories or stop reading if something bothers you.
Headstall's Reflections - 91. Chapter 91 The Barn Across the Road
Chapter 91: The Barn Across the Road
It was a packed dirt road back then
Slick muck in March and buoyant dust in August
Ten well-leapt steps from deep ditch to deep ditch
leading to a fantastical childhood place of discovery
A discernible path was worn, whether summer or winter,
back when I could wriggle under barbed wire
or climb over when crusted snow layered high,
to get to the little wood door fit into the bigger door
The mow’s dim interior held spirits and ghosts
of cows and pigs and people alike,
but they were my friends, my consolers,
swimming through dust motes between sunlit slats
It was where I felt protected, where I could breathe
I’d burrow into stored straw, book in hand, and dream
of horses and birds and flying and… safe places
It was always hard for me to feel safe, but here I could
That mow was not only mine, not always, but I made it so
through careful planning and sneaky timing
because a craving for solitude was ingrained in me,
mostly a way to avoid unsolicited, unwanted attention
My mind always careened, but here I could keep up
and imagine a different world, a saner world,
one of beauty, quiet, kindness and creativity
Yes, creativity, that emerging desire to form and forge
Other desires came forth in that hallowed space
It was big enough to hold so many things… questions
and fears a young boy/man clutched tightly to his chest
as he tried to figure out who he was as a human
But, back to beauty… that barn, my uncle’s barn
was more exquisite that any church I’d been forced into
And the only worship felt was for its construction
with hand-hewn beams way thicker than my young waist
Beauty was everywhere, in sun patterns on the floor
and the wooden ladders to the skies, and to other worlds
of my freed and fertile imagination, unbound by the courage
I could assuredly find in this magical castle of mine
Relegated to storage by a newer one close to the house,
this century barn came to bendable life in a storm,
the wind making it sing, a cacophony of creaks and squeals
But it stood firm, always, and I imagined I absorbed its strength
I certainly didn’t find all the answers I needed, but that’s okay
For it was my haven then, and is a comfort to my mind’s travels now
I’m sure if I were to visit, I would find my buried stack of books,
and the carved faces I scratched to life with an old horseshoe nail
And still it stands, this stalwart pillar in a confusing, scary time,
now in the respectful, rehabilitating care of my older cousin
My barn isn’t nearly as old, but proved a playground for my children
and I hope each found the kind of joy I did in the barn across the road
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Names, places, characters, events, and incidents are based on the authors' lives and experiences and may be changed to protect personal information. Any resemblances to actual persons (living or dead), organizations, companies, events, or locales are entirely coincidental.
Note: While authors are asked to place warnings on their stories for some moderated content, everyone has different thresholds, and it is your responsibility as a reader to avoid stories or stop reading if something bothers you.
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