Hubby walked in the house as thunder rumbled over head, both causing me to jump in my chair.
"Hey sweetie!" I called from this kitchen.
"Hey jumpy!" he yelled back from the living room, already changing out of his work boots and into his slippers.
I giggled and felt myself smile at the sound of his voice, but it quickly faded when my hand started throbbing. I sighed. Should I tell him about this morning? He'd probably be quick to think I'm making something out of nothing. He was too logical and rational when it came to things like this. Not that he wouldn't believe me, he would. He would also have an simple explanation for it.
I sighed again. I didn't want to think about this anymore. Besides, I still had to get dressed!
The thunderstorm had brought little relief from this morning's heat & humidity. In fact, it seemed worse. Against my better judgment, I told him about my experiences earlier. What piqued his curiosity was the part about the barns' paint appearing preserved and the structure itself not being compromised, by the vines, so he suggested we take a ride up there.
As we rode up the street, my chest was tight, my heart rate high. I already knew the barn wouldn't be as it had been this morning. It would now be run down, leaning to one side, it's foundation sinking into the earth, the hole in the roof wide open and gaping, its' yellow painted trim faded and peeling, the cedar shakes crumbling into little piles all around it.
The vines I was unsure of. I felt their unpredictability.
But I had my camera. I could show him the pictures I took this morning.