Kelly Green
Member
For me, it's the front porch swing. It was here long before I was born. This old swing has seen four generations of joy and laughter and sadness and tears. The swing is where my mother rocked me when I was just a baby. Over the years the swing is where my grandparents, countless aunts and uncles, relatives and friends sat, spinning yarns and telling their life histories. The swing is where my grandmother read the telegram that arrived in 1945 informing her that my uncle Jack had been killed on some tiny speck of island in the Pacific called Okinawa. The swing is where my mother and father would sit on warm summer evenings and talk about the things that mattered and laugh at the things that didn't. The swing is where dad and I sat when he revealed to me that he was dying of cancer. In the final months it was here that we shared our dreams and regrets. This is where dad asked me to promise that I would care for mom and the farm after he was gone. That was an easy promise to make and keep. The swing is where we hugged for the last time and I told him that I loved him.
The swing is where I sit every morning and watch the sun come up over the tree line and thank God that I have been so blessed. There is no place on earth I'd rather be.
The swing is where I sit every morning and watch the sun come up over the tree line and thank God that I have been so blessed. There is no place on earth I'd rather be.
