Such a pretty morning with the beautiful blue sky of coming summer. I ate my breakfast toast and cantaloupe in the swing pondering on birds and all the old houses on my street. Why do we love old houses? They always give us trouble, but we don’t hold it against them. Most of the houses on my street were built in the early 1900s. Most of them have porches and several neighbors of mine are porch and yard sitters like me. Older homes have a welcoming charm and quaintness that new builds don’t have. Older homes have strong structures and plaster walls. These homes were built to be repaired and not replaced. They were crafted with longevity in mind. The windows in my home are the original ones and have held up well but I’m saving now to replace them.

Old houses have a glorious history. When I go upstairs I’m holding on to the bannister my grandmother used when she moved into this home as a new bride. The house, built in 1920, was a wedding present to my maternal grandmother Margaret Handley and her husband Paul Lane. Can’t imagine moving into such a large home as a new bride. This house was next given to my mother and daddy when they married and they raised me and my three brothers here. I purchased my brothers’ inheritances in the house a good many years ago and Chief always said we’d move back here when I retired. Sadly, I moved here without him but many, many times he told me to go home to my family if something happened to him. And it did, Covid killed him in ten days.

Isaiah 32:18 states, “My people will live in peaceful dwelling places, in secure homes, in undisturbed places of rest.” My grandmother’s house has seen four generations of my family gather for holiday dinners and special family celebrations. Chief and I were married here. My mother was born here and died here in this house. My father had a heart attack at the kitchen table here and died surrounded by family. My Aunt Margaret Shaffer had her wedding reception here as did my mother. The funeral visitations for both my parents were held here at home. Family members here have watched the world grow up through 106 years of history from the 19th Amendment giving women the right to vote, to the Great Depression, World War II, D-Day, the Civil Rights Movement, the Korean War, men on the moon, the 9/11 attacks, the development of the internet, the Covid-19 pandemic…just a few of the historical moments from the last 106 years that my family experienced while in this home.

The history of this house is precious to me and comforts me with memories of wonderful times. Every morning when I sit in the swing and do some pondering, I can see my family and myself through the years sitting on the porch and in the swings. Daddy swinging with one leg down, hearing the squeak of the swing chains as I went to sleep as a child, mama sitting in the swing eating scuppernongs and throwing the seeds over the porch bannister, my children playing happily in the play pen where my dog naps now, my grandchildren and I swinging in the porch swings and pretending to be on an airplane, singing as we take off. My grandmother Big Ma once drinking lemonade in the swing with her pants on inside out. All the family pets stretched out sleeping soundly on the cool red tile of the porch floor. Good night kisses at the front door in high school. As Ray Bradbury writes, “Heaven is a house with porch lights.”

I’ve read that the kitchen is the heart of the home so that makes the porch the soul of the home. Our homes and all our memories are always in our hearts.

“Mid pleasures and palaces though we may roam, be it ever so humble, there’s no place like home.” — John Horace Payne