Grandmas Old Red Barn

There are things we remember and there are things our brains try to protect us from. Growing up, I loved spending time at my grandmother’s farm. Being a city kid myself, summers were glorious mostly because I spent it outside, in nature. My friends and I would play in an around my grandmas’ red barn, hiding amidst the horses and sheep. My grandma had a working farm with sheep, goats, chickens, horses, and cows. They were all my friends. We would often bathe in the stream. Jumping in the cold water was a shock at first, but your body adjusts. Our bodies always adjust. Maybe I blocked it out. Maybe my mind wanted to protect me. Whatever the case may be, that veil of so-called protection, is gone. I remember now. I remember everything.

Funny how we view life as kids, so carefree. Worrying was for adults. I recall hearing something about my parents worrying about grandma and what she was involved in. I mean, if my grandma wasn’t the sweetest, most thoughtful, caring person in Indiana, you couldn’t have guessed otherwise. She was the kind of woman that baked muffins for the local policemen. She often volunteered at the veterinary hospital. She just loved animals. She would cook for any of the townspeople when someone was sick. She would just show up at your door with food and her rubber gloves to do your dishes. You would think she was intrusive now-a-days. How things change. Caring has become intrusive. I suppose its all in how you look at it. She didn’t have a mean or sneaky bone in her body. Or at least I never thought so.

When I got the call that my grandmother was sick, refusing treatment, and calling out my name from her bed, I hesitated. It’s been nearly 30 years since I’ve been back to the farm and that old barn. Another life is probably a better way to describe it. I had a vision of my frail 98-year-old grandmother, seemingly senile, screaming out my name. I advised my clients at the firm that I would be unreachable for approximately 4-5 days. That’s the amount of time I’d give to my dying grandma.

After my parents split, there was an air of confusion. My mother blamed my grandmother for things, my father blamed my mother, but no one ever really spoke about it. I was thirteen when I stopped visiting my grandma’s house. That’s when my amazing adventures on the farm and the old red barn I’d spent so much of my childhood in, was gone from my life. The city was all I knew. I blamed her. I didn’t know, understand, or remember exactly what happened that summer but as I drove from Chicago to New Pekin, Indiana, scenes from that summer began to creep back in. New Pekin is the epitome of a small town with approximately 1300 people in it. It’s as small, as a small town in rural American can get. That summer I turned thirteen changed my world. My grandma planned an amazing party. All my summer friends were invited. The beautiful red barn was adorned with fresh lilies, my favorite, and little twinkling lights that hung all around. My grandma’s neighbor Harold had some of his friends from town come and play music. Granted the music was not of my time with a banjo, drums, and a guitar, but I loved it. I had everything I ever wanted, my friends, music, dancing, mom, and dad laughing, the barn and my grandma’s famous carrot cupcakes with cream cheese icing.

“Turning thirteen is a huge deal, my darling girl.” My grandma often sang as she spoke. “You are now a teenager, watch out world!” she jumped back. She did always make me laugh. I picked out a yellow dress with white polka-dots, and Billy was coming to my party. The night was amazing, as my grandma had promised it would be. She was always so confident with her words. I was convinced she could tell the future. Nothing phased her.

Billy was the first boy I ever kissed. We went behind the barn because he said he didn’t want anyone else to see my gift. It was a poem he had written about me. I was so happy, it was beautiful, and then I kissed him on the cheek. His face turned as red as the barn. That night my grandma came to tuck me in. She still called it that. “I don’t think you can say you’re tucking me in since I’m thirteen now.” I scoffed. “Awww, my darling girl, it doesn’t matter what earthly age you are. You are my kin and I will always tuck you safely into bed, even if you’re 40 years old,” she laughed at herself. “Time and age are just so silly. Don’t take those things so serious.” She smiled and the edge of her mouth curled. “Ok, sure grandma. I love you.” That was the last time I saw my grandma.

I tossed and turned that night, not knowing why I felt so restless. When I went to read my love poem again, it was gone. I swore I had folded it and put it in my dress pocket. Could I have dropped it? I couldn’t lose the first gift I had gotten from the most amazing boy, on the night of my first kiss. I had to find it. I snuck out and ran to the barn. Everyone was asleep, it was well after midnight. As I went near the back of the barn, I heard a strange noise. A flash of blue light lit up the barn from the inside. My heart was in my chest, I could barely swallow passed the lump in my throat, but I had to see what was happening in the barn. There stood my grandma, in the middle of the barn holding something in her arms. Was it a baby? It was as small as a baby, but the blue light was glowing around it, made it hard to see. As she turned, I noticed she was holding an egg. What kind of egg was that big? Nothing made sense. Suddenly there were four shadows enclosing my grandma. I couldn’t see faces, I tried climbing up on the side of the barn to see through the window when I was grabbed from behind.

The next thing I remember, we were getting in the car. It was early morning, and I didn’t see my grandmother. My mom seemed scared. She didn’t say much. “Where are we going?” I demanded before getting in the car. “I want to see grandma!” “Your grandma had errands this morning and we need to get back to the city.” My father’s voice was shaky, and my mother kept quiet. For a long time, I kept asking. Weeks later, I was told grandma was sick with a forgetful disease, dementia, or something, and they had some people taking care of her. I cried and inquired about her for months. After that, things changed. My parents were always angry. I could hear them fight. “Your mother is unbelievable; how could she do this? I don’t even understand what this is.” My mother and father always sounded confused, scared, and annoyed any time the subject of my grandmother came up.

As I pull into the driveway, my childhood memories of joy and laughter, playing with barn animals comes flooding back. I smile and my heart can still feel the love, then I notice the old barn and clouds engulf my memories. Suddenly, tears roll down my face. If I squint, it looks the same, but its not. The grass is overgrown and there are no more barn animals. As I walk up the steps, I am greeted by Harold, my grandmothers neighbor. “Hello sweet Daisy,” his words are as gentle as he is. “Hello Harold. Thank your for contacting me.” I realize I don’t have much to say to him. “She’s upstairs and just a warning dear girl, she only says your name. Nothing else.”

“Fine.” I say.

My grandma’s house smells the same. Less like cupcakes but still like a grandma. Her eyes light up as I enter the room. “Daisy, Daisy, Daisy D-A-I-S-Y.”

I sit down beside her and grab her hand. “I’m here grandma. I’m here.”

“Good my darling girl. There’s much work to be done.” She whispers.

“Is this a joke? I was told you weren’t speaking; that you’re demented and dying.”

“Yes, well, humans don’t ask too many questions when they don’t want the actual answers.” She sighed. “That night you saw me in the barn, that was no coincidence. Your parents don’t understand the work I’ve done. What I’ve been fortunate to do in this life is a gift. Now, I need you to do the same.”

“I don’t understand.” I was more confused than when I was thirteen.

“You will my dear, you will.” That’s all she said.

The next morning, I went into my grandmas’ room and she was sitting up in bed. “Daisy, Daisy, Daisy, Daisy.”

“Morning Grandma. Can you explain about the barn now?”

“Daisy, Daisy, Daisy, D-A-I-S-Y.”

“Grandma?”

“I told you,” said Harold.

“Oh, I didn’t see you there,” I mumbled.

“That’s all she says,” Harold whispered again.

“No, no, she spoke to me yesterday and said she would explain the barn.” I was getting annoyed.

“You must be mistaken; she hasn’t said anything but your name in months.”

Am I going crazy I thought. I know my grandmother spoke to me and said she would explain what I had to do.

I stormed out of the room, ran down the stairs and out to the barn. Inside, I looked around. What could she have been talking about? I sat in the barn for hours, tears flowing until I had no more to give. Why am I here? What did I think I was gonna accomplish? I don’t know what I was thinking.

“You were thinking, there’s more to this barn, and to grandma than you remember.”

That voice. It was the same as the day before. As I turned around, I saw her, she looked beautiful, younger, confident and there were four shadows behind her, just shy of the blue light. “Grandma?”

“We have much work to do, my darling girl,” she said. “Come with me and we will explain.”

As I stepped into the blue light, I was stepping into the old red barn all over again, but it was different. Decorated with lilies and adorned with twinkling lights.

“This is how we travel. This is how we will change this world.”