I stood at the entrance of the enormous barn.
Hundreds of years old.
It had seen more than I could comprehend.
It had seen the land change, the people, the world, and it didn’t seem to mind.
It still stood strong and maintained its presence.
It was a sight to be held.
The large, red, wood doors were heavy to open.
“The original owner was a man by the name of Captain Blood,” she told me.
“A man of many skills..”
It was a barn built for bringing new life as well as ending it.
How many animals had been born just to be killed in the barn over the years?
Tools were found rusted, some still with evidence of the purpose unwashed from them.
A few owners came and went after Captain Blood.
All of them using the land, location, barn, and home to become successful.
Over time, the two sisters who were left with the barn both eventually developed dementia. Locking them selves in the house, using only two rooms out of the ten in the giant home.
Closing up the barn.
Letting its only purpose become a vault of memories. A vault.
Something I see in my dreams.
The weather vane squeaking in the breeze, I looked it all over one more time.
The history was enormous. And I was too tiny to make an impression.