The Hayloft

Our parents gave us some interesting errands to do at times. My mother dropped me off around the bend from the estate, and drove off. "Hello, God, Could You Please Help Me Get To Someplace Better, Please?", my brother would have begged. However, I knew how to get into a situation, as well as get myself out of a situation. My baby sister probably would have gotten lost picking wildflowers, or chasing after chipmunks. I alone could do this.

J.C. Penney's estate in White Plains was an inviting place for curious teens to explore. It had a huge piece of land with several barns and outer buildings on it, as well as a huge mansion, and several guest cottages.

The only way to get to the pastureland was to cross the "Y" Day Camp. The grass, tall and green, softened with seed tops, whisked across my legs as I moved through. Over on the left is the blackberry patch. Sun-warmed berries oozing juice are sweet and satisfying. Fingers stain red with berry juice in picking these little fruits. The cost of picking is usually getting goodly cut and scratched up by the thorns on the branches and possibly getting stung by an angry wasp who feels this patch is hers.

Now comes the difficult part, crossing a fence with barbed wire at the top. My shirt catches on it and rips at the sleve as I climb over. The field is spred before me; tall weeds waving in the breeze, stony bare patches of ground. Butterflies flutter, settle and flutter again over a section of wildflowers, Lazy Susan and Queen Anne's Lace. The field on my left brings me to the barns, grey weathered wood buildings. The barn is dark after the brightness outdoors. A quick climb up the wall to an opening brings me into the hayloft. Dust motes dance in a beam of sunlight. The hay is stacked high, it's been here a while, now dry and soft. It makes a nice cushion to rest in and read a book.

The floors are dusty. There is a large wooden chest against a wall, at the far end are stairs leading down, into dark passages below. These halls are dark and unknown. The hayloft is empty, except for the chest and the pile of hay. A door slams below breaking the silence, while I was tiptoeing down the stairs. What if someone walks up the steps? A quick run to one of the openings in the floor; a slide through it, lands me inside a stall. Peering over the stall door in the darkness I can see daylight across the way shining around the edges of a large stable door. The door scrapes open and two girls confront me about being here. Then, they leave and lock me in the stable. I open the stall, not much can be seen in the dark. The fresh scent of horse manure hits my nostrils.

The girls are outside. I talk to them through the closed door. Finally, they open the door. I find myself in an enclosed courtyard, rectangular in shape, open to the sky.

These girls have permission from J.C. Penney to exercize the horses. Both are older horses. One is bony; the other a swayback. They offer me a ride. I climb onto the swaybacked horse. One girl leads her around the courtyard. Her coat feels smooth and well groomed.

I walk back to the edge of the road, sometimes trotting, to get back to the drop-off point. Mother is already there, and yells about me dawdling on the errand. After this, Saturdays return to the way they were before this. We all go our separate ways, and never see each other again. There are no more errands for me for a while from mother. The rest of the summer is a quiet one.