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…….
What a warm picture you paint. I want to hear the rest of the story Granny was starting!
ReplyDeleteYour description gracefully glided the reader through the majestic sacredness of your Granny's porch. It's breath taking. I love it. Thank you. :)
ReplyDeleteYour words capture your voice. I can visualize and want to hear Granny's story on that porch. Thank you for sharing.
ReplyDeleteChildhood dreams,they are sweet. Thank you for sharing your grandmother with me.
ReplyDeleteYou set the scene so well with your words. I want to hear more...more of grandma's story, more about that magical porch. Thanks for sharing!
ReplyDelete