Jamie

My dad and his brother have farmed, raised cattle, and milked cows together since their bachelor days. When I was young, I lived for the days when my sister, brother, and I would go with Dad to “The Barn” where all the cattle to be milked were kept. We helped Dad with the chores and played with the animals—cats, dogs, raccoons, ducks, and calves. These weren’t the only things that made trips to “The Barn” so special. We were just as excited to see our cousin Jamie as we were to see the animals. She was my idol.

Four years my senior, she always seemed very mature and sure of herself. Jamie always had something fun and exciting for us to do. We could swing on a rope back and forth across the hay-mow, giggling as we peaked near the rafters and squealing when our stomachs dropped as we swooped back down. Jamie would help us climb to the highest bale for the best ride.

Other times we would go out to her orchard to pick apples for both ourselves and the cattle. We would climb onto each other’s shoulders, straining to pick the best apple. Heedless of our parent’s warnings, we would eat those little green apples until our stomachs were turning.

Jamie knew all about animals. She had to because she was going to be a zookeeper someday (ironically, she is now in college majoring in Elementary Education). She knew how to milk the cows by hand and could actually ride one of them. When we built hotels for the cats, she knew that they would prefer slippery straw to prickly hay. She could always find duck eggs, and knew how to bucket-feed the calves so that she didn’t get the pail rammed into her hip or the milk sloshed all over her coat.

Jamie and her brother Jason could both tell wonderful ghost stories. When dark had fallen we would scramble up the bales of hay high into the spider-filled rafters, flashlights in hand. As we made our way up we were filled with a rush of danger. Once we found a hallowed cave of bales we would settle down and the stories would begin. Sometimes Jamie and Jason would read from a book and other times they would make up their own. Regardless of the stories origin, Jamie and Jason could always make us scream.

The years of swinging, apple picking, and egg hunting are past. As the years went by, we saw less and less of Jamie. When I started high school Jamie was a senior and we slowly began to hang out again. Now she’s in college and I’m the senior. When she comes home we sometimes go shopping or meet up to talk about the present, the future, and to reminisce about the years gone by.