I grew up in the South. By the time my generation came along, everyone had air conditioning so the blistering hot summer necessity of outdoor porch sitting had long passed. But my grandmother’s house has a big back porch with a swing beautifully crafted by my grandfather. Sitting in the swing affords a view of his woodshop and the red barn he built with my mom’s assistance when she was in high school amidst fields of green grass and Hereford cattle. In autumn, the grass turns a golden hue and the setting sun to the west behind me casts rays of violet and scarlet on the clouds above the barn. For my entire life, sitting in this swing, I’ve found solace and peace, my own personal zen, total tranquility. My burdens are always lifted when swinging in the swing.
When I lost my sight, I was in Texas—miles and miles from my peaceful place—terrified of what the future held for me, if anything. But time after time, in my mind, I went to find peace. The journey to Tennessee, albeit in my thoughts, kept me rooted and hopeful and strong.
I go to the back porch now, whenever possible, and sit on the worn oak slats and swing, looking out across the fields, remembering every beautiful detail of the vista, and feel my peace. Wonder if the barn needs a fresh coat of paint?
#porchswing #LHON #lebershereditaryopticneuropathy #peacefulplace
