The sun danced across the grass making every green blade pop. Out in the farm pasture the words of parents and warning of grandparents always faded. Racing around the old wood barn words were replaced with laughter.

Dared by the thought of collapsing the 100 year old wooden barn… the hay loft was our only goal. We took off in an all out sprint. Beams of sunlight piercing the gaps in the old barn walls revealed our ascent through the darkness. Racing across the old wooden floor each board creaking… no cracking beneath our feet. Without a thought, up the wooden ladder we climbed… each rung crumbling a little in our hands. Fuck Yeah! Victory was ours and so were the spoils! To the mulberry tree!

Down the ladder, across the boards and out the broken red barn door, fresh air hit our lungs kicking us into hyper speed. The mulberry tree was within reach in seconds. The spoils… suspended on end of every branch plump full of juicy sweet goodness. Their deep purple hue glistening in the near setting sun. Shaking each of the branches put our precious prize within reach. We popped them in our mouths one then two… a dozen or maybe even two dozen… victory was so sweet!

Running back to grandma’s house laughter remained our main form of communication. We hit grandmas screen door with a crash and another burst of laughter. Rolling into the kitchen we plopped open the fridge door to grab ice cold coke. With the evidence of our victory stained on our mouths and fingers, we strolled into the living room like we now owned the place. Still not in full view of the living rooms occupants, Grandmas voice rang out “Mulberries before dinner leaves stains!”

There’s a new patch of dirt just around the corner of the barn under the mulberry tree. At the edge of the tree were the shade line rest from the branches that bear those juicy plump fruit. Our arms are heavy and our brows now glisten in the moon light. Grandma words were right after all… mulberries before dinner do leaves stains… some that will never come out.