Can Life Be Like an Old Building?

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run down farm building
Photo by Keryle Amidon

Look at this beautiful building.  Does it have a story to tell?  If only it could talk, here’s what it would talk about:

I was created many, many years ago and I had an important job to do.  I was in charge of keeping the tractor and truck safe.  I came when a little boy was only a few years old and he would run and play outside.  He was such a happy little guy.  His parents were very hard-working people who spent hours every day tending to all the chores on their farm. The little boy had a big sister, and together they did their best to help where they could.

Each morning, rain or shine, winter or summer they arose and would walk past me to start the day by milking the cows.  A while later they returned to venture back into the house.  I wonder what they did in that house.  I would ponder many thoughts as to what could be going on inside, but alas, never knew the real story.  

Less than an hour later people came back outside and would climb into big green vehicles that were so, so noisy when they started up.  Where were they going in these vehicles?  What were they going to do with all those things they towed behind?  I don’t know.  No-one stopped to tell me what was going on.  All I could do was watch.

Winter came and winter left.  It was not a lot of fun for me to stand out here when the north wind blew, but I did the best I could.  Every day for many months that little boy (who was getting taller and taller) and his sister would carry a box in their hand and walk down the driveway to step onto a yellow vehicle and would be gone for hours.  While they were gone the yellowish/brown dog, whose name was Rex, would wander around the yard, sometimes chasing birds or butterflies, sometimes just relaxing in the sun.  He was a curious sort – always sniffing the ground everywhere he went.  Once in a while, a car or truck would pull up and Rex would run towards it with his tail wagging.  Sometimes someone would stop to pet him, other times they just strolled up to the house and went inside.  I wonder what they did in there, in that house.

Years passed, and seasons came and went.  Time marched on and people came and went.  The regulars who lived here continued to wake up early and were always busy doing things I didn’t know much about.  Still, no one stopped to look at me.  Oh yes, they couldn’t help but see me – I was in plain sight, but they really didn’t stop to look at me.  The little boy grew up and soon became a man.  Time passed, and one day a new building appeared close to where I sat.  Then, another person, a lady, was here and she stayed for years and years.  She brought a new dog with her – a black one.  This was a funny dog.  I think they called him Korki.  He loved to run through the flock of chickens and would quickly turn to see the chickens flapping their wings and scurrying around, squawking and carrying on as if they were being tortured.  Korki enjoyed this activity and it seemed he even had a smile on his face as he tormented the poor little birds. 

This new lady, too, seemed to be busy all the time, hopping into a vehicle and leaving for hours and hours, then returned and into the new building she would go.  I wonder what she did in the new building.  Why did they spend so much time there?

It wasn’t long before two new little children would be outside playing.  One was a little girl.  I think she was the oldest.  She would be outside with fake little babies, playing on the grass and patting the new dog who had come to live here.  It was a big dog with long ears. The little boy was much more adventurous.  He was always scheming and inventing and so, so busy with things.  I always loved it when the children were outside.  It gave me something to look at and enjoy.  

My life didn’t really change too much for several years.  I had a job to do, protect that tractor.  Then, one day, my role did change.  I no longer protected a tractor.  I did, however, have lots of stuff in me – tools and things.  Sometimes the older man would come and hammer onto a table inside.  It wasn’t long before he started putting all kinds of other things in me for me to look after.  There were windows, rakes and shovels, and even bed springs were my responsibility to keep dry and out of the weather.   I did the best I could to do my part on this busy farm, and I knew my being here was important to everyone and that they wanted me to make sure all this stuff stayed safe and dry.

One day I began to notice that I was feeling quite chilly.  The old wind seems to whistle around me and come in through some cracks on my sides.  I didn’t like this, but there was nothing I could do.  This seemed to get worse and worse as time went on, but still, I stood tall and accepted what was happening.  

Those little children who played outside and whom I had only met a few years ago, did the same thing as the other children I remembered from years gone by.  They, too, would walk down the road and climb onto a yellow bus that would take them away for the better part of the day.  I wonder where that yellow bus took them.

I aged, I grew tired, but life still happened all around me.  The little children grew up and went away.  

Sometimes a vehicle goes by with a man and lady in it.  Every time I see this vehicle I get a weird feeling inside.  Who is this lady?  Why does her face seem familiar?  Then, it dawns on me.  She is the little girl who used to play with the fake babies on the grass.  She is all grown up now, and she brings young children with her.   It all makes sense now.  My, my, how time flies.  

It wasn’t too much later that these two little children seemed to appear from time to time and they would wander around all over the place.  It was these children who showed an interest in me.  They would come up to me and peer through the windows where glass once had been.  They would talk to each other about all the things they saw on my insides.  I was happy.  Someone finally noticed I was there.  It made me feel so special.  I tried to stand tall and proud, but time had taken its toll and I was no longer able to appear to be the sturdy building I once was.  My roof was shrinking, my sides were wearing away.  The nails that held me together were beginning to show.  However, the children did not care, they would come often to peer inside.

run down farm building
Photo by Keryle Amidon

Another two-storey building had been put up to the west of me and the original little boy, now a man, and the lady who came and stayed would spend a lot of time in this new two-storey structure.  I wonder what they did in there.  The lady would drive by me many days, sometimes several times a day.  Each time she passed, I noticed that she would look at me quite intently. What was she seeing that captured her interest?  After all, I was really starting to fall to pieces and my exterior was showing signs of major stress.  She was interested, however.  Many times she would stop for a few brief moments and stare.  What did she see in a building that was old and tired with hardly any siding left on it?  Why did she care so much to admire the nails on my roof, which were very visible now?  This all seemed strange to me.  The boards on my roof were sagging, my doors didn’t fit any longer, and I no longer had any kind of job to do.  I was empty inside.  Still, the lady seemed to be fascinated in my look.  Why?  What did she see that she liked?  I had been here, on this spot, for years and years, so why was this lady now showing so much interest in an old building like me.  

One day, the lady came with her camera and took many, many pictures of me.  I tried to smile, but I couldn’t.  It was all I could do to stay upright.  I was old and I was tired.  I had done my job for all these years.  I couldn’t stand here much longer.  The little boy I first knew, who was now old himself, had to make a decision.  He knew the time had come.  My bones were weary and I knew, too, that the day had arrived.  

One day a big machine arrived and gave me a push.  I crumbled to the ground.  I was actually glad to finally be able to lay down and rest.  I had completed my work on this farm.  I had seen people who lived here come and go, and I, too, was ready to go to my resting grounds.  

I now lay in a pile by the slough, away from the hustle and bustle of this farm.  I can still hear the goings-on in the distance.  A tractor still roars, and cows and calves still moo from time to time.  If I listen carefully, I can hear the voice of that old man whom I saw when he was just a lad, and I was shiny-new.  I can hear the lady, too.  She often sits outside on her verandah and peers into the distance.  I think she sees me laying down here.  I just hope she is happy with the pictures she took and will always remember what a proud, beautiful building I was – right to the end.

I have time to think now.  I think about all the comings and goings that I have seen over the many years I stood.  I ponder with pride, and I wonder if people are like me.  They were once strong and useful in all sorts of ways.  Then time marched on and their life was not as busy as it had been.  They rested more.  Then, one day, just like me, they left – never to return again.  Their job here on earth was done.  Their memories are in the hearts of others.  People look at their pictures and reminisce.  I’m so glad the lady took many pictures of me, and maybe, someday, people will reminisce about me, as well, when they look at these pictures.  

ALL IN ALL, IT WAS A GOOD LIFE!

1 COMMENT

  1. Great post!
    I often have those same thoughts when I visit homes. If only…. the family table could retell stories once told, the fireplace could retell family gatherings etc.
    Time is precious and keeps rolling by.
    Seize the day and hang onto those memories

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