Rusty Memories

It doesn’t feel real, the truth has not yet hit.  Memories are rushing through my head as I walk, stumbling along the once well-trodden pathway to the barn.  The barn, more memories assault me as I repeat those two words in my head; so simple, yet so full of meaning.  I reach the end of the path, it’s been so long since anyone has come here that the barn is still a ways off.  Pausing, I look around myself; nothing stands out to me anymore.  The colors, which once popped with radiance all fade into one gray blur.  The barn is about twenty paces away, but the distance seems greater as I gaze at it.  It almost seems to be moving further from me as I stand, rooted to the ground and unwilling to move further.  
I take a breath and take a step further, followed by another step and one more and suddenly I’m running. I don’t stop even as the overgrown weeds catch my ankles.  I stumble and trip, almost falling a couple of times and finally I reach the barn.  Its color is the only thing I can see now- a faded, rusty red with the original wood’s brown peeking through in spots.  I stare at it, the lines already burned into my memory and I raise my hands.  I touch the doors, pushing against them as they struggle to be opened after so long.  They fall away from my hands and I’m hit with a scent of stale hay, left behind in the past. Before I can even look around, my eyes are closed and I’m on my knees vomiting.  It comes until there’s nothing left and even then it struggles to push out more, drawing labored breaths from my chest along with sobs.  I’m stuck in this position and I try to shut a mental door against the memories flooding my mind, it was a mistake to come.  Before I can stop myself, I’m pulled into a memory: a warm summer breeze, pollen in the air, the sound of laughter.  A hazy view of the barn, not yet faded, green eyes much like mine, dark hair like my wife’s.  
When the memory ends I realize I’m standing in the middle of the barn, my eyes open and close rapidly as I try to stop the tears before they get a chance to fall.  For the first time in what feels like an eternity, I can hear the birds in the rafters above and the some mews of barn kittens.  Something new is in the air, what it is I can’t quite put my finger on… but somehow I can almost hear it: a whisper on the breeze, murmurs as the water drips into the barrel. “Don’t give up hope.”