The Front Porch Swing

Straight from the Heart

The Front Porch

There’s nothing special about it at all. Sometimes it squeaks. Sometimes it houses wasps and hornets. Several times It’s even crashed to the porch with me in it! Yet, the old, country swing, with its rusty chains and layers of paint, holds a treasure chest of memories. It’s where I take my morning coffee, listen to the birds, and meditate. It’s where I talk to God, laugh and cry, and reminisce. But, my fondest memories are swinging with my grandchildren, talking and laughing, imagining ourselves soaring high above the clouds on Mrs. Eagle’s feathered back. At nightfall we’d gaze into the starry sky, listen to the frogs, and watch fireflies. When I’d finally oblige them with a scary story, they’d jump off the swing and scurry into the house.

My oldest grandchild, Brandon, now twenty-two, wrote me this beautiful poem, On the Front Porch, Swingin’. I thank God for reminding…

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