This barn has been here since before my grandparents, mom and uncle moved here in 1955. For years, I had it in my head that my grandpa built it, but he didn’t. This barn has a lot of history for me. There used to be stalls in it for animals. There used to be a chicken house inside, and a loft filled with hay. My grandpa used to come out here to feed a litter of wild kittens, and one of those mornings, he died in this old barn. I visited his ghost here when I was seven, believe it, or not, and said goodbye to him here.