How I Conquered the Barn Loft and Became the Favorite Grandchild at the Same Time

My sister Denise held my hand firmly as we crossed the busy road that separated our house and Grandpa's house. As we walked up the gradual slope to the barn, I took a final gulp of the fresh summer air. For me, going into the barn was like entering a tomb.

My eyes took their time adjusting to the musty darkness of the barn as I tried to find our Grandpa. The sound of his cheerful whistle told us that he was in the loft, one of the many places in this century-old barn we weren't allowed to explore on our own - a rule that didn't bother me in the least. "Maybe you should go up there with him," Denise said with a motherly tone. "It would be easier for him to watch you while I go help Grandma in the garden."

Fat chance, I thought as she walked back into the sunlight.

I tilted my head back as Grandpa's lanky frame appeared in one of the dusty shafts of sunlight that filtered through the walls. He waved at me. "Who's that coming in my barn?" His greeting lacked none of its usual silliness, but it sounded hollow today - lost among the skeletons and ghosts of old machinery and tractor parts. It was all I could do to keep my eyes open as he climbed easily down the ladder; I was certain that at any minute he would slip and fall to his death.

Grandpa's warm hug was comforting - especially since he was safe on solid ground. "How is my favorite granddaughter?"

I laughed, but hoped it was true. "I'm good, Grandpa. I got a new shirt for school."

"Is that so?" he said, walking over to his workbench to get some tools.

"Are you done in the loft, Grandpa? I was hoping we could play together in the sandbox."

"Well, Kiddo, I would like to play in the sandbox if we have time, but I am working on fixing a hole in the wall up there and I really need to finish before we get another storm that would damage it more."

"Oh... well can I stay down here and play with the cats?" I tried not to sound too disappointed.

Grandpa knew I had never been in the loft before because I was afraid of heights. "That's fine, but you should know there are some new kittens in the loft. It might be worth coming up to see them." He winked at me and ascended the ladder, armed with his new tools.

I didn't watch him go up; instead I began to call for the cats. I wandered around for a bit and listened to the pounding of Grandpa's hammer above me. I finally found an old tabby cat hiding under a rusty cast iron tub. She hissed as I struggled to pull her through the narrow opening. I ignored the scratches she gave me as I finally got her into my arms. I was determined to hold her until she purred.

Suddenly, I heard a cry and then a crash above me. Grandpa! I rushed over to the ladder. "Grandpa!" I called. "Grandpa, are you ok?" No answer. In my panic I forgot that my sister and Grandma were outside somewhere. So instead of running for them, I made the decision to go up. I made it a third of the way up when my sweaty palm reached for a rung and found only air. I chocked on a sob, reached a little higher and grasped the worn slat of wood. I dared not look down. Grandpa needed me. I concentrated on reaching one rung at a time until my hands finally touched the floor of the loft. Stack upon stack of hay bales met my eyes as my head emerged. The air was hotter and more suffocating up here. I hesitated on the top rung - Grandpa lay trapped under debris. Blood was oozing from a wound on his head.

I forced myself onto the floor of the loft and crawled over to where he lay. "Grandpa?" I whispered.

He moaned. His eyes fluttered open and slowly focused on me. "So, you finally made it up here..." He gave me a weak grin.

"Are you ok?" I squeaked.

"I..." He gasped as he tried to move. "No, Gracie, I guess I'm not ok."

"What should I do?" I swallowed the panic that threatened to overwhelm me. What if Grandpa died?

"Get Lucille and call 9-1-1."

"Lucille? Who's that?"

Another weak smile. "Your grandmother. Her name is Luci-" Grandpa began coughing and choking on the hay particles that were floating in the air. I could hardly stand to watch as he gasped for air and moaned in pain.

"I don't want you to die, Grandpa!" I crawled over to him and tried to hug him.

"I won't die, just get help quick." He started coughing again.

That was enough to force me to turn around and head back to the ladder. I made the mistake of crawling right to the edge and looking down. If going up had been a struggle, then going down was going to be downright terrifying. My entire body broke out in a cold sweat as I backed away from the edge on my hands and knees. I slowly turned around and saw my Grandpa struggling to breathe. I backed up to the edge and stuck my foot out over the ladder. It flailed around in the air above the rung but never found the rung itself. I was going to have to look at what I was doing. If I missed a step, Grandpa would not be the only one dying. I turned my head and guided my foot to the top rung. The other foot found the next rung down on its own. I wanted desperately to close my eyes, but knew that there was a missing rung somewhere and I had to pay attention. I continued slowly down the ladder.

It must have taken me hours to get down, but as soon as my feet touched solid ground, I was off and running. "Grandma!" I shrieked, bursting into the sunlight. "Grandma!" The barnyard was large and by the time I made it to the vegetable garden, I was out of breath. "Grandma!" I gasped.

"What is it, dear?"

"Grandpa's hurt! Something fell on him in the loft," I said breathlessly.

She immediately dropped her gardening tools. "Denise," she said, addressing my sister, "Go and call 9-1-1. Tell them to come quickly." Then Grandma ran. I'd never seen her run before. I followed behind her.

She was in the loft before I reached the barn. I decided to wait below. The paramedics would need to know where to go.

It wasn't long before an ambulance arrived, sirens blaring. I ran out to get them and show them where Grandpa was. Two men rushed up the ladder to the loft with some medical bags. My sister found me and we hugged each other, waiting. A fire truck arrived, and several men hopped out with a large basket and rope. They worked together to get Grandpa into the basket. Then they lowered him gently over the side of the loft. They eased him into the ambulance. The other men helped Grandma down and all of them climbed into their emergency vehicles and rushed off. Denise and I were suddenly alone.

"Do you think he'll be alright?"

Denise squeezed me tighter. "Grandpa's strong," she answered. "He'll be fine."

She was right. A few weeks later, Grandpa was back in the loft, patching the new hole. My Daddy was helping him this time. Denise and I went across the street one day to see how the work was coming. As we entered the cool darkness of the barn, she scrambled up the ladder without a second thought. I, on the other hand, hesitated. Would I be able to make it up there without panicking? Grandpa's face appeared over the edge. "Hey, Kiddo-who-saved-my-life! How'd you like to come up here and see those kittens I was telling you about? They're old enough to hold now."

My palms started to sweat. I swallowed the lump that had formed in my throat and walked up to the ladder. A fresh slat was nailed in place of the missing one. Grandpa had let me carve my name on it before he put it into place. "To honor my favorite granddaughter because she saved my life," he had said. I looked up at his smiling face and started climbing.