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I sat on the old oak swing one more time. I pushed gently with the toe of one foot as I listened to the sound of the big metal chain links squeak against the bolts that held it tightly in the beam above. It is on the south end of the big porch on the house on Marsh Avenue. It seems to have shrunk over the years. I used to be able to lie down and put my feet against the end and sway sideways being careful to avoid hitting the house.
I remember Mama swinging the little baby boy she brought home from the hospital even though I had asked for a puppy. She sang softly as the warm August breeze came across the way from the river and kept us cool. I remember that little boy as he became a man and sat in the swing holding his little baby boy he and his wife brought home from the hospital on warm June day 16 years ago. This little baby is now 6' 2" and completely fills the swing when he sprawls across the boards.
I sat there with my babies and watched the clouds roll in over the dam just up stream from the Chattooga River as we visited grandparent's house. I remember the good, simple times. That old swing has seen some happy times.
I remember sitting in the swing with my boyfriend from high school days and laughing at the promise of a future together forever and ever. That didn't happen. I remember sitting in the swing with a handsome Air Force guy who truly was my soul mate and making plans that did come true as we promised to love each other for ever and ever.
I sat in that swing and watched the world go by in a simpler time when I was young and the world held facination and hope and promise.
From the porch you could look out at the community swimming pool, little league ball fields, tennis courts and the school where I would attend 12 years. I lived in the perfect world. Or so I thought. Or so I believed.
Time has passed. That old swing is still there. I sat and cried as each of my parents left this Earth to go to their rewards. I felt a comfort from the squeaking of the chains and the wide boards that never seemed to change.
Just one more time I sat on that swing and gently glided to and fro and let my mind go on a journey back in time. It was quite a lovely trip.
On Friday that swing will no longer invite me to sit and enjoy some time in the shade of the wrap-around porch and sip sweet iced tea in the safety of the little cotton mill town that gave me my roots. It will become someone else's swing.
We will sign some papers and with the stroke of a pen the "House on Marsh Avenue" will become home to another family. We just couldn't take the swing off the porch. It was as much a fixture as the roof or the wide sidewalk leading out to the road.
It is no longer Mama and Daddy's house. That ended in 1999 when she broke free of the disease that took her away from us. It is no longer Daddy's house. That ended in March 2007 when he broke free from the bonds that held him Earth-bound when he longed to be free.
It is just a house. Isnt' it??? It's just the house on Marsh Avenue.
I hope the new owners will enjoy lots of swinging time and will smell the magnolia blossoms from the big tree on the north side of the lawn. I hope they make plans that bring happiness and enjoy a warm future filled with love and devotion.
Bittersweet. I now know the real meaning of that word.
I will miss the house on Marsh Avenue.
I will sign the paper and with the stroke of a pen, I no longer have the privilidge of sitting for hours in that old porch swing and watching the world go by in a much safer, peaceful time.
Life goes on and so do I.
Mz Scarlett...damn tears.
