That Old Porch Swing

January 3, 2010
By Alfreto BRONZE, Inianapolis, Indiana
Alfreto BRONZE, Inianapolis, Indiana
4 articles 0 photos 0 comments

Favorite Quote:
We all wish for forever, but forever doesn't allways mean forever. We don't own time. Time owns us. The only moment we own is this moment right here, right now. So think fast, baby before we lose it.

Six kids pile upon an old porch swing, their nearly bare bodies hardly fitting. The sun is warming as the air is filled with joy and laughter. Four girls and two boys, they aren’t all related, but they might as well be, fighting and playing as brothers and sisters do. The railing around the large poorly painted porch is their fencing, keeping the kids away from the outside world of shooting and vandalizing as it takes action close by their laughter. However, the world is quiet for this one Sunday evening as the sun shines for the last time today, and the six kids begin swinging on that old porch swing.

Years later, the six of them are still swinging on that same swing. Their butts have grown, but they still find some way to fit, one sitting on top of another, squeezing against the edges. It’s that same time when the sun is starting to fade. Their naked legs and feet swing out into the cool air, grasping the fencing in front of them; only letting go to slam against the house. They do this continuously until someone yells from inside. The game is forced to come to an end, but only for tonight that is. Yelling and screaming with rage burning off of their tongues, fighting breaks out as there now isn’t anything else to do. It’s not uncommon, but it is distasteful. Somehow it falls back together, although, as they pile up once again. Shouting and laughing, with their mind full of nothing else at the moment, they begin talking to the point where they can’t find themselves to shut-up. The parents come out to say it is getting late, and three of them have to go. So without much complaint, they grab their shoes and leave the other three alone, until the next day that is, swinging on that old porch swing.

The summer of 07 two of the oldest girls sit along on that swing. Besides their different sizes, you could almost call them twins, their long dark blond hair flowing with the wind as their light blue eyes search what has been seen so many times already. Sitting in between the two girls, is a small black child, his head full of black curls and his cheeks full of creases. His short stubby legs rest among the wooden planks, too short to dangle in the warm air. The two girls place each one arm around him as they hold him close, pointing towards the cars passing by with a smile brightening up the sun. The boy came out of nowhere into their lives. He doesn’t belong to them, but he should have as the three kids sit, looking like an inside out Oreo, loving the ones that don’t belong, swinging on that old porch swing.

Only a year later the six kids swing together once again except for this time they have guests. Three black neighbors who just moved in, nothing but trouble, but the six siblings don’t know that. It’s only part of life that something so joyful and exciting could turn into a mistake. This day is unlike no other, the kids scream and laugh louder than ever, the hot sun boiling their skins. It’s all alright for now as the nine kids paint smiles on one another’s faces, trusting and swinging on that old porch swing.

The next year the oldest is the only one outside, but sitting right beside her is a boy only a couple weeks older. He holds her close as they play with her game system, talking the hours away. His long legs are covered in jeans, his short blond hair covered with an old and worn baseball cap. He is obnoxious and his mouth is as large as an alligators at times, but she finds herself to love him. He presses his cheek against hers, and she can feel the butterflies swarming around in her stomach, her face turning red. Listening to the wind blow and the neighborhood children fight, they keep their eyes focused on the small, electrical screen. No sooner than later, a car pulls up in front of the house and he has to leave. She hugs him tight, grasping what she would regret letting go later on. He tells her he loves her, leaving her swinging alone on that old porch swing.

Later on that week, the two oldest girls are out on the swing alone. Nothing but a shimmer of the sun is left, darkness quickly filling the air. The two girls sit closely side by side, chatting about what needs to be said and what doesn’t. Silence taking a hold of their lips, they stare out into the cool sky as they wonder where the time goes and who really decides what is going to happen next; wondering and dreaming, as they swing along with the nights soft winds on that old porch swing.

Not a month later, it’s time to leave the old house behind and the six kids are sitting on the porch swing for the last time in their lives, playing their favorite court game. Two of their cousins help out with the game. The first victim claims to have eating poisoned tacos. “That’s only because you stole my recipe from me,” exclaims the other victim. The lawyers are having cat fights over the victims, and the jury takes notes of the whole action. The judge, sitting in front on top of the railing, is unsure about the situation, as he hollers for everyone to be silent. Rain drizzles among the ground, the sky in one of its dark depressants, but that doesn’t stop the kids as they solve the trial, taking their final swing on that old porch swing.

Six months later the oldest child rides by the house. She now comes from a new house in a new city where the six siblings are so close they are practically living together. Everything is different now, but the memories of the swing are still in their hearts. She stares at the empty porch, watching the swing sway slightly back and forth in the wind as if six siblings are still swinging and laughing on that old porch swing.

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This article has 1 comment.

on Jan. 11 2010 at 3:11 pm
Mandiella DIAMOND, Plaistow, New Hampshire
73 articles 58 photos 349 comments

Favorite Quote:
Don't waste time. Start procrastinating now.

I really like this story because it has such a simple idea, yet you delivered it in an interesting way. Childhood memories can be really great and they're fun to write about.


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