In last Monday's post, I mentioned that I'd just celebrated my "blogiversary" -- nine years of blogging. I started out on TypePad and moved to this address three years later, but from the beginning, the blog has been "The Porch Swing Chronicles."
The first porch swing I remember having an affinity for belonged to my late friend Marti Vaughan, but it was another porch swing on another weekend that inspired the name of the blog:
Memorial Day weekend landed smack in the middle of all this [end of school year] craziness, and of course, there was a picnic to attend. My "to do" list scrolled endlessly through my mind as I tried to convince myself that taking a huge chunk out of a Sunday was a good idea. Everything in me screamed, "Run! Claim this time! Stay home and check things off your list!" Oddly enough, it was the first clear voice I'd heard in the mental chaos of the past several weeks.
I silenced it, however, and went to the picnic. While there, I wandered onto my sister-in-law's front porch and sat in the porch swing, easing myself back and forth, taking in the rural front yard so different from my own suburban lawn, looking over the porch railing at the creek where my brother-in-law had discovered three snakes that day.
Slowly, amazingly, peace came. For the first time in a long time, I simply sat, enjoying the quiet, a talent I've never been able to fully cultivate.As I get older, I get better at cultivating the talent of enjoying the quiet, but I still spend a lot of time trying to take charge of the to-do lists that scroll endlessly through my mind. I'm getting better at that, too, learning to organize both time and space, but able to let go a little, especially as I spend time on porches and patios with people I care about.
Before we left for home, I made sure to show my daughter [then eight years old] the porch swing. She and I sat there alone for a few minutes, and she discovered the fish jumping out of the water, then right back in. Instantly, she loved the swing as much as I did (though my husband remained puzzled by its allure). Then, my sister-in-law joined us, telling the story of the porch swing she'd taken from her grandfather's home when he passed away. It was certainly not the first time I'd sat on that swing, but it was the first time I'd heard its story.Whether you're a regular reader, or you're reading this blog for the first time, thanks for joining me. I hope you'll come back to join me for more Porch Swing Chronicles.
|Photo: jackietrains via Morguefile|