Memories Live, Even After The Relics Turn To Dust

Last night, we torched the old barn.

I guess this needs some explanation. See, my family if moving soon. It's hard for me because this is the only home I've ever really known. I've lived here for 19 of my 22 years, and I have a lot of fond memories of this old farm. It consists of a large meadow, a small wooded area, and a creek. This place used to be a small horse farm, with chickens, dogs, cats, a vegetable garden, and a small above ground pool. But over the years, all of the animals died off (except Sparky), and the place has become a bit dilapidated.

At the center of the property was the horse barn. It had two stalls, a dog kennel, and storage for all of the various feed we needed. The chickens also used to roost in there at night. However, since the animals died off, we didn't tend much to the place, and it became pretty much abbandoned.

So, finally, my brother decided to burn the fucker.

He invited his friends over, and doused the thing in gasoline. I came out to watch... figured I'd say goodbye to yet another memory. He tried the set it off in style at least... with a molotov cocktail. It would have been nice... except he didn't chuck it hard enough and it skipped clear off the barn and into the back field without it even catching. We had to result to a flare that our roommate had.

After it went off, it was probably the second biggest fire I ever saw in person (The first being when my neighbor's much bigger barn when up when I was 5). It took the thing down pretty quickly, about 45 minutes. After that, it was about a shin high 20x50 foot block of flame, smoldering boards and planking, and ash. Me being the little fucker I am, started to dare my brother's friends to run across it, through the flames, now that it was somewhat doable. So, after about 10 minutes of me pressuring people, my bro does it.

I am NOT about to let my bro out-stage me like that. So I take off my long coat, bundle it up, toss it to our buddy Curtis, and run through. Then I hear one of his friends yell "Now you have to come back through!".

Now, in order for you to understand my method of thinking in what happens next, I gotta tell ya a short story. Back in my days of high school football, we used to have these one-on-one drills where basically, we just charge and hit each other head on. These were probably my favorite drills because it was a good chance to hurt somebody, as well as get hurt.

With that said, this next part is the part of the night I'm going to remember on my death bed and smile over. I prepare myself, and charge back through the flames. I get about half way through when suddenly, crashing through the smoke and flame, is Andy, a guy about my height, about 50-75 pounds heavier than me, sheer muscle, and an old football teammate. In the split second that we saw each other, we braced each other and hit each other in true football form. We hit each other so hard that we just clear ricocheted off and blew each other clear out of the fire, kicking up showers of that old barn's flaming ashes.

We both got back to our senses and started balling laughing. Apparently, he couldn't see through the smoke that I was running back through so quickly, and he thought he had time to get across. We reminisced back to our football days, cussed that we didn't have a camera to capture that moment, and went off about how we now had bragging rights that we did a football drill in smoldering ash and flame.

I looked outside today when I was making breakfast, and realized that barn was no longer there. However... at least we sent it off in style.

-Roger