The last time I was visiting my mom I went for a morning walk up the road by her house. I can’t really call it my house, or home, anymore as I have lived longer at my current address than I did at that one. Weird how adulthood does that, it is home, and home and home until one day it just isn’t anymore. This barn is on the opposite side of the road from my childhood home and once housed dairy cows, then thoroughbreds and finally just a few old horses that dwindled to just one. The property has been subdivided into 2 large lots that once were fields, and the house and outbuildings are also on the market. This is the barn my occasional babysitter would take me to, and I have vague recollections of playing in the hayloft. But maybe that is not so at all, memory is a funny thing and often what is remembered is not quite accurate, or ever even happened. It wouldn’t surprise me if we did play in the barn, kids did things like that back then. Our own barn was out of use and a rather dark, scary place, this one being in use had a life to it. I believe the cows were gone by then, but there was a horse, and I have the picture of me at a tender age sitting on it with Debbie the reins. So I can safely say that did happen. I am hopeful that the 2 houses that go in will not be monstrosities, and that whomever buys the house brings life back to all the buildings. I might not live next door anymore, but would like to see things done right.