The Hayloft, 1968

Dust floats through the air in the quiet cool of the hayloft.
Up here we build our thrones and castles out of the golden bales.
Tucked away from the watchful eyes of mom.
Pieces of straw stick out every which way.
Poking at my skin and making it itchy.
Deb and I kick off our shoes and lift ourselves up into the rafters.
Breathing in the sweet smell of the wood and hay,
We carefully move along from one beam to the next
until we are way beyond the edge of the upper loft.
We tiptoe along a thick balance beam,
Standing in the middle, I am scared to look down.
It never seems this high up when you are standing way down there.
Deb grabs my hand tight and looks at me,
a smile creeping out the corner of her mouth.
Ready Panda?
My heart beats faster as I look away.
One. Two. Three. Jump!
I shut my eyes tight and take the leap.
Landing butt first in the large mound of loose hay below.
“Again, again!” I laugh, with straw covering my entire body
and sticking out all over my two long braids.
“Hey Debby look! Now my hair looks like yours! Haha!”
“Mleeeh” she says, as she sticks out her tongue at me.