Last Words of a Creaking Barn Door

The sun rose over the horizon, shining a light of honey onto the old barn. She could remember it clear as day, though the barn was no longer there.

She had visited the property last year when she could still move her frail bones. The barn had been knocked down, as had her childhood home. In its place, an apartment building. The town, once rural and empty, was now a bustling city.

She heard her children, speaking in hushed tones to the doctor. She wasn’t sure why they whispered; she knew what they were saying. She knew she was going to die, there was no point hiding it. She had known for quite some time.

She clutched the once warm tea in her hand, now turned cold from the winter chill rolling in through the open windows. She wondered why they insisted on keeping them open despite the rain bucketing down outside.

When she closed her eyes, she could feel the warm sun on her back as she rode her horse out from the barn. The wind whipping her hair back, her brothers calling her name.

She could see the spiders ascending down the windows in her bedroom, the cracks on the walls seeming to tell stories.

There were no cracks in the apartment building. The rooms were shiny, sleek, there were no stories those rooms had to tell.

Her daughter places a hand on her shoulder, removing the cold tea from her hand.

“Are you okay ma?” she asks, the old woman nods dismissing her with a wave of the hand.

The hand on her shoulder, same as her wedding day as her father hugged her close and kissed her cheek. She had been smiling at her new husband, the future father of her three wonderful children. The barn had been cleaned up, flowers and lanterns hung from the rafters. Outside a makeshift altar, a band, her family and friends dancing the night away under the light of the moon.

It was the happiest day of her life, up until her children were born. They learned to walk out there, picking flowers in their chubby fingers, calling out to their grandparents, learning to form their words out there.

“Mum, can I get you anything?” It was her daughter who broke the pattern of the old woman's thoughts.

“No, no. Don’t fuss over me.” the words came out barely above a whisper. It seems hard to do most things these days. Her daughter fluffed her pillows. The rain patters outside, bringing her back to the last moment she saw the barn, she closes her eyes and breathes in the smell of it, the feel of the wet leaves under her boot that seemed to always blow into the barn no matter how much she swept them out.

On her eightieth birthday, her family had finally convinced her to sell the place. Her soul ached as she studied the empty barn. The magic that she remembered had seeped out of the cracks through the years, disappearing with the death of her parents, her husband, and her older brothers.

Her slow and fragile body made caring for the place difficult, and the mould and dry rot were always several steps ahead of her.

She remembered that day like no time had passed at all. Her three children looked at her with concern, offering their arms for her to walk, but she was determined to do this last walk alone, just as she had thousands of times before.

Her heartbeat seemed to slow with each step, each footstep making her feel increasingly lighter.

The rain had been leaking through the roof, falling in fat drops onto her as she walked on the day, but she can’t feel them anymore

The barn is instead honey-coloured just as it was when she was a child. She suddenly notices she is no longer shuffling; arthritis no longer settles in her bones. Her body is strong and young, thick hair falling in her eyes.

She looks down at her hands, the hands of a much younger woman greet her. Lacking wrinkles, they seem strong enough to ride horses again. A joy she had not experienced in almost 20 years. As she blinks, a table that has been set with all her favourite foods seems to materialise in front of her. She looks down, and suddenly is engulfed in a dress that seems to glow, the fabric is like nothing she has felt before.

Her husband, parents, and her older brother are sitting around a table in the barn. Her childhood horses whinnying playfully in the distance. She finds herself crying, a feeling of relief floods through her and she takes her usual seat at the table.

“Welcome home Esme.” Her mother whispers and takes her hand.

In that big old barn, she was home after all.