As you can see, What’s His Name submitted the black and white picture prompt that our Fairy Blog Mother, Rochelle Wisoff-Fields, posted to inspire our merry band of Friday Fictioneers on this last Wednesday of November.
“A lifetime is stored behind those doors.”
“Junk, Grandpa, all junk. If that old barn burned down tomorrow, nothing would be missed.”
Nothing?
While I fought in WW II, your Grandmother penned letters by the window because sitting alone in the house was too hard.
When I returned, your father was conceived in the loft amidst the smell of fresh hay, chicken feed, and the sound of happy tears.
You boys wrestled in the horse stalls and you proposed to Milly in that old barn.
“Go inside. Feel the memories, then tell me you want to tear it down.”
100-words
Up From the Ashes 
Dear Lish
I love this sentimental grandpa story. I’m sure What’s His Name will enjoy it, too. 😉
Shalom,
Rochelle
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Thanks. There are so many fond memories in smells and sounds of old buildings.
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Good as far as it goes, but my Dad was the ultimate pack rat. After he passed away last April, my brother and I had quite a time of it going through all of his stuff, including broken VCRs and some form letter he’d gotten from a magazine in 1968.
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He and my husband’s mother could have been neighbors. We still have some of her old stuff in our basement. I’m working on it… Thanks, James
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Beautiful story, Lish.
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Thanks, Moon!
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Loved this take, Alicia. Memories can be found all over the place.
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Thanks, Dale. My Auntie’s old chicken coup turned garden shed had the best smell in the world. I can almost smell it now.
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Oh yum!!
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Lovely. Just lovely.
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Thanks, Sandra. Sometimes I feel like a sentimental old fool. I hope your birds like their new ice rink.
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But what other people feel will not be the same as what Grandpa feels. Memories don’t transfer that way.
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Perhaps not…. Thanks, Alice, for another point of view. They are always appreciated.
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Well done, Grandpa – generations of memories in there. Beautifully told as always Lish
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Thanks, Lynn. We’re losing the memories of the oldest generation and sometimes I don’t think the younger generation cares.
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The younger generation doesn’t care, it’s too self absorbed – until it becomes the middle generation and begins to see the sense of learning from the past.
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You are so right. I do believe I wore those shoes once.
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Sweet story – and isn’t it true that places like this hold memories?
Susan A Eames at
Travel, Fiction and Photos
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Thanks! I was going for a hint of kindness instead of murder and mayhem.
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You built a story of all our memories
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Thanks, Neil. I have so many fond memories, from childhood to yesterday built on, sight, sounds and smells.
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Unfortunately sentiment is no barrier to modernisation – perhaps it should be more often. Nicely done.
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I think so, but then I was an archeologist. I have a fondness for “old.” Thanks, Iain.
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Marvellous. Not a story but a complete novel
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What a kind thing to say. Thanks, Bryan.
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Lovely sentimental story. I agree with Grandpa.
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Thank you! One more for Team Grandpa!
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A memory stained story. Well written, as usual, Alicia.
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Thank you, Neel. I like the term “memory stained.” Cheers! Alicia
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What a soul-stirring story, filled with magical memories. Loved it. Glad I stopped by.
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I’m glad you stopped by, too. Thanks for that and for leaving a comment.
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Maybe they won’t feel the exact memories, but I am sure they will feel their own. Letting go can be tough.
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Oh, letting go is very tough. Thanks for reading and commenting. Alicia
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Objects are inanimate, it’s memories tgat fill life in them. Cheers.
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That’s exactly the way I feel, although I do have a quilt my Grandmother made, pottery my father created and my mother’s needlework that all mean a lot, I try to fill my memories with trips taken and picnics spread out with friends. Thanks for reading and leaving a comment.
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Sad – one person’s cherished memories are often another person’s worthless junk.
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The sentiments of your story are warm and loving. It’s written beautifully. I particularly like “amidst the smell of fresh hay, chicken feed, and the sound of happy tears.”
You’ve given us a refreshing contrast to the normal high drama of Friday Fictioneers!
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Very wise Grandfather! I hope he listens. Very thoughtful story!
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i always tell myself, when all’s said and done, nothing will be left but our memories. nice story.
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Thanks. As I’m getting older, I’m getting rid of more and more “stuff”, keeping only the things that bring good memories…..
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I’ve got fond memories of many old barn and storage building. It pains me to see them go.
What’s His Name
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Dear What’s His Name, Me too. My favorite part is the smell! Thanks for reading and submitting a fine picture.
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Really enjoyed this. Good one.
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Thank you!
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Oh my gosh. Great story. Well told. The memories!
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Thanks so much, Laurie.
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Grandpa isn’t ready to give up his memories. He’s also trying to pass on the backstory for them. Good writing, Alicia. 🙂 — Suzanne
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Thanks, Suzanne. I’m the backstory lady who collected stories about my parent’s childhood before they passed away. Very important to me and my sisters appreciated it.
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I can imagine how much your sisters appreciated that. It’s something that can be passed down for future generations. 🙂 — Suzanne
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Oh I love this… so much of memories that can be felt… somehow they should be lucky it’s still there.
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Thank you, Bjorn. I’m so glad you stopped by! Happy Holidays!
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Bloody old people with their emotionally sound logic!
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I know, right? Thanks for reading and commenting, Martin.
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Love the sentimentality. A place can hold so many memories. I wonder if it will be torn down anyway.
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Yes, a place can old or bring back so many memories. Thanks for stopping by and commenting..
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Lovely!
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Beautiful post. As I grow older, new acquisitions don’t seem to have as much value as my old books, old quilts and black and white photographs.
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I certainly agree. Thanks for reading and commenting.
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beautiful!
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Thank you!
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