Front porch memories

Looking back on my life I have many fond memories from my front porch swing. I grew up in Startex ( a small mill town with no traffic lights, one school, a post office and many churches). Our house was your typical mill house, two story white house with a porch and a swing. We didn't have air conditioning so the best breeze was found from the porch swing. Our camera had no flash so the best pictures were taken on the swing. Our dog wasn't allowed in the house so I spent time with Sandy on the swing. If I had a splinter my dad would sit with me in the swing and use his pocket knife to get it out. After a rain my mom and I would sit in the swing and enjoy the smell of the air and coolness of the breeze. My brother Steven would push me so hard in the swing that I'd hit the banister. He thought it was funny and I thought it was dangerous. At night when my brothers watched what they liked on the one TV we owned I'd take a blanket and pillow out to the swing and look at the stars and dream. During the day I'd take a hymnal out there and sing songs. Other times I'd take my bible out there and read for hours. Time in the swing was precious. When I started dating many of my dates would end with us sitting in the swing. As I got older me and my parents would have meaningful chats in the swing (there's something about being outside that opens the flood gate of conversation). As a married woman when I'd come home to visit, my dad greeted me from the swing (usually with his pocket knife in hand eating an apple). I'd stop and sit a spell with him before going inside to greet momma. When I'd leave I'd wave bye to him as he'd still be sitting in that swing.

One of our neighbors and friend, Mr. Hendrix made the swing for our family. He used wooden spindles from the mill. If you ride by my mom's house today that swing is still there. When we go visit it's still the favorite spot to sit and talk. Last time we visited I watched from the living room as my Livie sat on the swing with mom's dog Lacy. The memories flooded my mind. Those were the good ole days. I wonder what my daughter will remember as her "good ole days"? Memories are made moment by moment ... make each one count for good.

It's amazing to me how much more I could write about that one swing. I can't think of any other spot that if it could talk ... oh what that swing would have to say. Of all the things my momma owns I have to say that swing is one of the most valuable items. For that swing holds a lifetime of memories as it held so many people that I loved.

In memory of my dad ... he sure loved that swing and I sure loved him.