It lived a glorious life long before we arrived, evidenced by piles of old straw and rusty stanchions. We added goats, dogs, rabbits and vacuum cleaners. (I'm sure the bats came with the territory.)
About the time everyone here outgrew the need for forts and animals, our old barn caught fire and burned to the ground. The last few years, the surviving basement stonework has been taken over by persistent undergrowth. Monday, that all changed.
We've been expecting this for several weeks, but the rumble of these huge machines in the yard was suddenly a harsh reality. Memories tumbled into deep holes. Tangible evidence of children at play disappeared under tons of earth.
The barn is gone.
We've talked about possibilities for the new space... a soccer field, a garden plot (that was not my idea), wide open green grass... nothing is definite at this point.
In our hearts, it will always be the barn.
We have heard with our ears, O God, our fathers have told us, what work thou didst in their days, in the times of old. Psalm 44:1
1 comment:
The saddest part that you didn't mention... Grey. My favorite time with Grey was in that barn. (Jumping in the hay, watching the bats, playing with the rabbits, etc.) Seems like another lifetime that we were all there playing together. It really is sad that it's just so... gone.
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