Last summer I wrote a piece about how people don't seem to sit on their front porches anymore. I said that I didn't have a porch swing and when a friend read this, she called and invited me to come and share hers. I've never taken her up on her invitation, but I still want to go so we can catch up with one another and reminisce. Life goes swinging by and we put off doing the very things we would most enjoy.
One of the women in my writers' group in Lexington writes stories in which the storyteller is the front porch swing. The swing relates family events it has witnessed in the years it has been hanging around on the front porch. It is enjoyable to read of the many happenings, some comical, some sad.
Growing up, we always had a front porch swing. We moved several times and each time, the swing came along for the ride. We also had tire swings, but my best memories are of times spent on our porch swing. On the nights we had homemade ice cream, we would eat huge bowls of the delicious icy cold stuff, then run to the swing where we would huddle together, all bundled up in Mother's quilts. The passing neighbors must have thought us quite demented when they saw us wrapped up like it was the dead of winter, rather than a boiling hot summer night.