Long Live the Barn 2

I found myself back in my old high school gym overlooking a basketball court. I’ve lived years in that place. I know the smell of the wood floor and how the light darkens as you climb into the dome ceiling. The sound the ball makes when it bangs the floor, like a hollow boom that bounces an echo. And the sudden screech of a stop, the shoe leaves scars of little black slashes.  Upon arrival, I immediately went into disguise, hiding half my face with sunglasses the size of the moon. I was Alice in a black gypsy dress, donning a white fedora and wearing new pink shoes staring down at a familiar rabbit hole.  I was there to honor a fallen fellow player, who at 34, died of cancer and in her memory there was an all-day basketball tournament fundraiser. Even though this event is a noble cause and my rebel native was co-sponsoring, I didn’t want to attend. I’ve never been nostalgic about those days, but I love her so I said, “if you need help, let me know”. She needed help and I was happy to return to the scene of the barn and her warm, smiling face. 

It was a cool June night. The choir was much smaller this time but what they lacked in numbers, they made up for it in energy. City mouse proved that she could shoot a gun which possibly shocked country mouse and with speed and stealth, country dog sniffed out hiding animals.  One of my favorite elements of the barn is the refrigerator. There is a container of worms setting next to mountains of beer. The music is set to loud and you’re encouraged to jump around and sing like a rock star. It seems a fitting celebration for that weekend and it reminds me to remember that within deep sorrow there can be great moments of joy. RIP Metisha Ewbank Welsh