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Taking a leap for lunch

3 min read

On Thursday of last week, I awoke feeling pretty ill. I know I had particular difficulty sleeping lately, but I could barely stay up long enough to get my kids dressed, fed and onto the bus.

They were gone mere seconds before I had crawled onto the couch and covered up with a blanket. I snapped awake hours later to a quiet house. I felt much better, albeit guilty, after my morning siesta.

Remembering I was supposed to have been helping my husband load hay for a delivery, I flew to the bathroom to get dressed and brush my teeth.

When I looked out the window, I couldn’t see our truck. For a split second, I wondered if he loaded up and left without me. I was torn in my feelings about that. On one hand, if he had, I wouldn’t have to get itchy. But on the other hand, I also wouldn’t get lunch in town.

I scoped out the situation and found the truck was still parked in the top of the barn. I also discovered that it was still empty and my husband was nowhere around.

I decided to start loading since I was already in the mood. Actually, I was just hungry and figured the sooner we got loaded, the sooner I could eat. I climbed into the hay mow and tossed several bales over the beam and into the truck bed. Then, I climbed down and started stacking the same several bales.

I repeated that process about eight times, until I had approximately 50 bales stacked up. This took quite some time, especially because I do not do heights very well.

It was only after I completed the load that I realized I ended up on the top of the hay, several feet higher in the air than I prefer to be, and was unsure how to get down. The hay was stacked pretty solidly, but I had yet to strap it down, so there was still some flexibility in it.

I looked around and saw only one option. I had to climb back into the hay mow from the top of the hay. It shouldn’t be hard, I told myself. It was only a foot or two away. The problem, I decided, was that there was about 15 feet of air, followed by a really hard floor underneath the mow, if I slipped.

I determined that jumping may be the best bet. So I counted to three – alright, you caught me; I counted to 30 – and leapt through the air. I caught the beam with both hands and gripped it tightly. Then, I began to swing my leg up over the top. I have never been so happy as I was the moment I rolled over the beam and into the solid-yet-soft – and still itchy – mow of hay.

I lay there for a moment or two before I moved. Then I climbed down the ladder, got the straps out and began to fasten the load.

After all, it wasn’t going to fasten itself, and I had really worked up an appetite.

Laura Zoeller can be reached at zoeller5@verizon.net.

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