Writing assignment: Sitting on
a porch swing; what do you see? I wrote from the perspective of
the person driving by and looking at the house with the porch swing…
It was an isolated two-lane road but the country
sights were breathtaking. A lush layer of
green dominated her color palate; there were fields
of crops and cattle, wildflowers, and old country homes. There were also quaint
farmhouses with children happily playing outside; a little boy bouncing a ball
and an older girl swinging from the limb of a huge oak tree.
Another farm showed a grandmother and daughter sitting
on the porch in rockers and other siblings playing with puppies on the grass.
It was the end of the day and probably the end of a very hard week.
Yes,
these people might have looked poor by contemporary standards but now she had
to ask herself, who exactly was poor? The
families along this road or the families who could afford fancy cars, a big
house, and all the electronic trappings for their children?
The father
spending time outside playing ball with his son or the businessman who could
provide everything for his family but was never there to enjoy it with them.
The mother
who spent more time shopping with friends than with her own children or the
mother sitting on the porch swing with her daughter engaged in girl talk and
laughing?
The child who
could walk a mile to the country store in safety and pick a fresh apple off a
tree along the way or the child who was chauffeured everywhere barely putting his
foot on terra firma.
The scales of prejudice were falling from her eyes and
for the first time she questioned, who exactly
was underprivileged? It just might not be southerners. She was mesmerized
by these thoughts as she gazed wide-eyed at a lifestyle she had never even imagined.
Even though these country folks seemed to be years behind her own existence in
New York, they were probably happier than any frenzied family she knew in the
rat race up north. They weren’t stressed over deadlines or production quotas,
sales meetings or client dinners, and she was slowly beginning not to care about
them herself.
She began to wonder how a city girl
might fit in down here? Or maybe the question to ask was, how would she ever be happy back in New York after experiencing the
Eden of Alabama? No problem. She wouldn’t even try. Alabama was now home
for her.
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