Cracked and weathered, the old gray porch was my favorite part of granny’s house. Like granny herself, the aging veranda exemplified the grace and gentility of another era; strong and enduring, its elegance could not be marred by the hands of time.
In my mind’s eye, I can still picture granny’s porcelain skin and sparkling blue eyes, as we'd settle in for story time. Using crickets as her backdrop, she’d begin by humming an old country hymn, and wait patiently as we gathered ‘round in sweet anticipation. Hearing the first rhythmic squeak of the rocking chair, we know she was ready:
“Once upon a time”, she’d begin.
Immediately enthralled,we'd allow the sugary sweet sound of her southern drawl to take us away, and transform the old gray porch into a mystical, magical place of childhood dreams…….