This post has been written for over 24 hours, and I just haven't had the um' kahunas to post it yet. I wanted it to be inviting, intriguing, and captivating. I have edited, and edited, and edited. But, sometimes you just have to jump, so away we go.
I thought at first I would start, with a little history on the swing.
The swing was my first Christmas present from the love of my life, My John, 7 years ago. It was originally hung on the front porch of our first home together, a little pink beach house. Oh, those first years can be so trying, but I think the swing may have just saved me. It was my place to be alone, to stay in touch with my girlfriends and sister. A haven, mind you, a place to take a time out, from the crazy spin of new love. I would spend hours on the swing, sorting it all out, and nothing has changed since that very first day, except where it hangs.
Before the pink beach house, I had lived in the same house since I was 1yr old. Mamma got sick, and we left the little pink beach house to come back home to take care of her, until her death from uncontrolled diabetes in 2004, and yes blog world, My John came home with me, and was amazing in the process of letting Mamma go. With the death of Mamma, my very best friend, came the chore of splitting the assets, and selling the house I had lived in for my entire life, with the exception of the two years I moved away to the little pink house ( Yes I would sing the song, as I pulled in the driveway on late summer evenings). Oh, I thought what it would be like to give up the house, part of me was sad to let it go, but I had been there my whole life. So I was outta here, gone from Mississippi was the plan. I dreamed of Chattanooga, Tennessee. My John had taken me to the mountains for the first time that fall, and I just knew that was where I would start my new life, as his better half. Now that Mamma was gone, what kept me here? Well, it turns out her name was Katrina. She destroyed the Mississippi Gulf Coast that I had called my home my entire life. Yes, Katrina hit Mississippi, not New Orleans. That post will come in the future, it's quite a story, and I can't wait to tell you it. You'll never guess what My John did, but when you hear the story, your'e gonna love him just as much as I do. If you are wondering, yes we stayed, and remember this is 1000 yards from the Gulf of Mexico. We were very fortunate in that even though we were on the strong side of the storm, the fact that my Daddy bought a house on the 3rd sand dune in, saved our butts. The landscape in the front yard floated up to the front door, while the back yard remained high and dry, there was a Mercedes floating in our driveway. One block separated complete devastation from flood, and nothing separated flood from my front door. We were really lucky. Times were tough for all, and my remaining siblings needed the money from the sale of the home to carry on, so as the easiest solution to the estate, My John and I bought out the rest, and just like my parents did after Camille in 1969 we moved on. We were determined to see my hometown rebuilt to it's pre-Katrina beauty. My old single pane aluminum bedroom window stares out into the yard where I rode my Hot Wheels, till Mamma said, "Don't make me come get you," where Daddy and I planted the honeysuckle when I was six, where I had my first kiss, where I played with my siblings, where my childhood friend buried my Ms. Beasley doll when I was 8, where we survived Frederic in 1980, and a few other hurricanes that now seem like such a joke. In the picture you see above, note the sand bags holding the roof down, this was in preparation for Ike just this past year. I can still see myself at every phase of my life staring out the window of my bedroom onto the front yard, at 6 when I was Donna Summer singing "The Last Dance" in my hairbrush, at 12 when the boxes of Girl Scout cookies delivered were as high as the house, because Daddy sold them at the shipyard, determined that I would win the contest that year, and I did win. Through the tears when I had my first broken heart at 17, the same window I stared out wondering how I would live without Mamma those last few days, right above the spot where the best dog that ever lived my 1st Bullmastiff Bull Henry is buried. That my new friends in that exact spot out a double paned Pella window with a granite sill, covered by custom hand built hurricane shutters, is where the swing hangs, and it's still my haven, and it's really, really home!
Come back to the swing for the next post, and you are going to get to meet my boys! Those 20 paws I say to the side here, that melt my heart. They will tug on yours a little too!
Coffee is at 2pm, see you then....
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