A Classic Tale

Izzy and Trent stood on the bare ground that was their own.

Trent held the title to the land in his hands, reverently, like a gift.

Beneath them the ground rolled away into the valley, their breeze-swept plateau affording a breathtaking panorama of the lake and forests below. Behind them stood the skeletal remains of an ancient barn, a monument to lives gone by. Knowing that they were not the first to inhabit this place lent them both a sense of responsibility to live up to that unknown legacy.

Izzy’s summer dress blew against the contours of her young body and her fair hair fanned in the wind. Trent caught his breath: the enormity of the privilege of a future with this goddess made his hands squeeze their precious deed, scrunching the paper before he was aware of what he was doing.

She sprang over to him, bare-foot and happy!

“What are you doing, silly? Here, let me get that…”. She uncurled his fingers and un-crunched the deed, then held it to her chest and leaned in against his heart. His arms encircled her, and they hugged - the proof of their planned future together held safely in the space between them.

If Trent was hoping for a kiss, he was short-changed - the neighbourhood were arriving. This meant shared picnics, likely raucous games and planning for the big event tomorrow.

Mellow sunset rays lent a rich magic to the group that night. Colourful blankets interwoven by children chasing and dogs stealing, a ball game and a meeting of the grey-tops: the community parents who generally organised these things. And as the sun dipped the stars blinked on, and the darkness drew everyone around the campfire.

Trent lay on his back with his hands behind his head, awestruck yet again by the satin beauty of the night sky. He never thought he would make it here - to be building this dream with the woman he loved more than his own life. The path of his 22 years so far had been more than difficult, and his battle against self doubt raged…

Who was he to think he could play this part? An orphan born to alcoholic parents, juvenile delinquent and convicted felon, a school drop-out? He squeezed his eyes closed, willing himself to believe that he was more than the circumstances of his childhood, more than the labels and accusations.

Izzy was a dream out of his league. A child of the earth, the heart of an angel…. Even the scar across his cheek conflicted with the perfection of her skin. What was he thinking? What could he possibly offer her?

And then she was there, holding his face, her hair falling down to tickle his arms. She kissed him and then put her nose to his. Her eyes questioning, holding his.

“You are doubting again.”

He reached his arms behind her and held her close. “Just stay here always and I will be A-ok!”

They giggled, then folded away their picnic and joined the guitar and firelight. With a busy day planned tomorrow, the gathering soon packed up - with hugs, and friendly punches, everyone departed. Izzy went home with her Dad, with a promise to return at sunrise with coffee.

Trent was left to his valley, his tent and his thoughts.

True to promise, Izzy’s call echoed over the still morning. And then a mass of friends were hooting and yawping, whistling and yelling. When Trent emerged from his tent everyone was already gathered, trucks loaded with timbers, materials and vittles, overalls and tools.

The barn-raising festivities had begun. First demolish, then restore.

The grey-tops pulled out large sheets of plans, and work commenced. Teams of able bodies began unloading the trucks - planks and frames, roofing, nails, tools and ropes all made their way towards their new home. In no time at all, everyone was busy at their tasks, and already by mid-morning, progress was evident. The ruin of the old barn had been torn down and the ancient timbers placed aside for Izzy and Trent's wedding bonfire next month.

In its place, on solid old foundations, new frames were beginning to take shape.

Trent half did not believe what was happening. It was all unfolding so swiftly; from the day he met his wife-to-be he felt that he had been transported into a different dimension, one of hope. The hugeness of Izzy’s community, their open acceptance and support, was nothing he had ever experienced. She, of course, took it for granted that her entire neighbourhood would turn out to raise them a barn. That was just how they rolled…

But he? He battled with this more than he dared show. How would he repay this?

“We will be there for everyone else’s barns and houses - that’s how it works,” said she.

How could he thank this generosity?

“Thaaannnnk. Yoooouuuuu.” she over-annunciated.

What if it’s all a failure and I fail at this? Again?

“You won’t. We won’t. You are not alone anymore,” she reminded.

Sometimes, he borrowed her belief in him. He knew that she saw something in him, because he could see it in her eyes. The respect. The faith. The knowing. And that gave him the courage to dream…

They worked like mine slaves that day - the whole community. They were amazing. And Trent drew from each one a deep respect. He worked harder than anyone, he seemed to be everywhere at once and he wore a deep humility upon a strong, hardened and scarred body like a protected butterfly cupped in gentle hands.

The sun set upon the plateau: evening rays bounced off the fresh walls of new timbers, danced upon a new red roof and welcomed to the world the substance of a new dream…

Upon the foundations laid generations ago, lives continued. What dreams would unfold here, what stories would be told?

What histories were stored in the old bones that had stood here this morning?

Only the old barn could answer that question, but the old barn was gone now. It was time for a new story.