14 reasons why links linger, lather, & love
Barn by Karin Hedetniemi
By Jen Schneider
1. she slid into the driver side passenger seat after he collected reams of hand-written notes and torn newspaper clippings. rays of late afternoon sun surfed & streamed. across the nearby & empty barn’s splintered roof. across the old car’s rusted hood. his hair long, past his neck. his fingers short and squat. Her fingers long and ringed. gold and silver bands on right and left pointers. she asked if the writings were his. not now, he replied. i’d prefer to talk.
2. his right hand turned the key, then the motor and the old volvo coughed. he hiccupped. she sneezed. layers of cornfield dust rose, then dissipated, in the small pockets of air between the glass panes. allergies and allergens, everywhere.
3. a tiny bunny hid behind the car’s front right tire. stray strands of yellowed greens offered little nourishment. stray shadows offered little shade. he opened a bag of lays chips. she inhaled the his mix of salt, grease, and oil.
4. his hand held evidence of garage grease and engine tune-ups. her hand held his.
5. they spoke of a future full of life. open field births. backyard bunnies. red robins. blue jays. orange sunsets. hand knit blankets. barnyard babies.
6. the bunny hopped to safety and the car hummed. he coughed. prescient and precious puffs of air.
7. they spent their summer in tank tops and cut offs. filled notebooks in sun scorched meadows that blossomed in sun scorched worlds far from concrete lots. they hugged each other, drunk on young love and a yearning for life. her shoulders marked of tan lines and strength. his chest marked of invisible timelines and diminishing strength.
8. his cough consumed more and more daytime minutes, even as minutes of daylight dwindled. tones of earth & skin yellowed. silent yells spread.
9. she urged cautions and care. not all coughs are allergies. not all allergies amenable to silence.
10. he urged silence. turned the radio dial to the right. played tunes. played lottery.
11. she brought sweet lemonade and sour suckers. red. green. blue. muffins full of oats, fresh berries, and love. homemade & made for home.
12. he tired. she tried. both filled notebooks to fill time. & find futures. his & her initials carved corners of open/close spaces as roofs & roots caved.
13. in the future, she sleeps alone. in a volvo in an open & openly scorched field under an early morning sky. her heart splintered amidst splintered grass.
14. a red robin sits on the front hood. a blue jay lingers atop the nearby barn. sweet tunes play. the radio dial on.
About the Author:
Jen Schneider is an educator who lives, writes, and works in small spaces throughout Pennsylvania. She is a Best of the Net nominee, with stories, poems, and essays published in a wide variety of literary and scholarly journals. She is the author of Invisible Ink (Toho Pub), On Daily Puzzles: (Un)locking Invisibility (forthcoming, Moonstone Press), and Blindfolds, Bruises, and Breakups (forthcoming, Atmosphere Press).
About the Photographer:
Karin Hedetniemi lives on Vancouver Island where she photographs and writes about nature, place, inspiration, and being human. In a former life, she helped lead an environmental education charity. Her creative work is published/forthcoming in Prairie Fire, Still Point Arts Quarterly, Sky Island Journal, Barren Magazine, Capsule Stories, Door is a Jar Magazine, and other journals. She won the 2020 nonfiction prize from the Royal City Literary Arts Society. Karin shares her writing on her website: AGoldenHour.com.