Creak! In a cloud of dust, the door slides open. Inside flapping wings beat in the rafters as a mouse scurries into its hole. The sweet smell of fresh hay mixes with that of manure as I enter.
Gathered in the corner, they freeze, as my golden retriever streaks in. Moving closer, I watch as they creep towards me. Each one unique; I know them all. The small framed Tyler, the heavy set Raspberry, the crop eared Elf, the muscular Rocky, the wide hipped Sugar, I know them all.
I shuffle about my chores. Almost methodically, hay, grain, water, rake up, each day the same process. Today seems like any other, as the hush of the munching animals blends into the background.
The barn itself is nothing special; green in color, small in size. The occupants make it worth noting. One sympathetic nudge from a lamb can melt even my just-failed-a-test-I’m-going-to-cry expression into a smile.

In this place I’ve learned more than in any AP or Honors class. In this place I’ve sweated more than any gym class or sports practice. In this place I’ve prepared for some of my greatest moments. Here among the fresh stacked, golden straw, cans of fly-spray, and allergy inducing dust, I’ve grown up. No place can match it.
As I sneak out, trying not to disrupt the calm, I hear it. “Baa!” Not a particularly loud call, it shatters the silence and my contemplative mood. I rush over to Muffy, my favorite. She nuzzles my hand, asking for food. Breathing in her distinct sheepish scent, I know this is where I belong.