A porch swing hung in front of my bedroom window. I thought of it as mine. As the sun bid farewell to our part of the Earth later and later, I sat on the swing enjoying the Spring air of Florida. I wouldn't have been able to say then, but I know now that the temperature hovered in the low 70's. A breeze out of the south laden with moisture from the Gulf of Mexico curled my hair as it lifted it from my shoulders. Then, I imagined a beau sharing the swing.
At the age of 37 as I paused while walking the dogs to enjoy the breeze longer, I heard a voice that I have not heard for nearly two years. It whispered to me, "Isn't this paradise?"Yes, Dad. It is.
4 comments:
awww, that is a beautiful memory. I know this is TMI, but...your story actually makes me jealous. I have NO memories like that, my Dad was in prison most of my childhood. What I would give to go back in time and rewrite history, just to hear one gentle and loving normal thing from him. I am so happy that you have such wonderful memories.
Thanks, Michelle. The good memories keep me going, but they also have a way of making me cry. This night, though, only smiles followed me home.
Lovely lovely lovely!
Beatifully written. Thanks for sharing.
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