Ellen stood at the back door and looked at the swing. The strong autumn breeze pushed it back and forth and she imagined she could hear the children's laughter: Hal Jr.'s loud bellows and Anna’s soft giggles. Hal had put the swing there for them and then hopefully for their children. He didn’t live to see any of them grow up.
Cancer claimed him finally on a night much like this one some fifteen years ago. Ellen had opened their bedroom window so he could feel the crisp fall air across his wasted face. He’d asked whether she thought Mother Nature’s paintbrush had worked her magic again and she, looking out at the oranges and reds of the maple tree, agreed that indeed the paint brush had been especially masterful.
For about an hour that evening they’d talked, until he felt parched and wanted a glass of water.
“But before you go,” he’d said, in a voice that was like a whisper on the wind, “promise me that after I’m gone, you won’t let that swing sit idle. If you ever want to talk to me, just go to the swing.” She’d nodded and drew herself up into a tight ball inside.
She knew he was saying goodbye and she could not bear it. Deep in her heart she knew that when she returned to the room, he would be gone, soaring to heights the swing would never reach.
Without looking back or calling out to him, she took off her apron and walked into the yard. She sat on the swing and moved as if her beloved were sitting with her as always. Anyone looking that night would have thought her mad, with her dress flapping, deep rivers of tears flowing from her eyes.
For fifteen years she’d gotten used to being a widow, making a life out of what remained. She raised the children, saw them through college. She celebrated their birthdays, weddings and rejoiced in the births of her grandchildren.
With each new development whether major celebrations like these or minor occasions liked the scraped knees, PTA meetings or getting herself a job - she made a pilgrimage to the backyard and settled onto the swing. This is where she felt closest to Hal. It didn’t matter how good or bad the weather, she talked to him right there.
Tonight was no different.
Ellen had decided to remarry. A chance meeting at her high school reunion had led her to John a man she had barely known in their senior year. She remembered him as a gawky boy with bad skin and big glasses. A widower, he’d grown into a tall, handsome man who wore contacts.
At the reunion, he’d asked her out to dinner at the new French restaurant where they talked for almost until closing. She had no idea how he felt but she knew she’d felt such giddiness only once before in her whole life and with only one man. She had never allowed herself to think it could happen again.
That dinner led to other happy dates and eventually getting married seemed like the only thing to do. Happily she would be leaving the house that had grown so large and ill fitting around her. Sadly she would be leaving behind her beloved swing.
II
Helen knew deep inside that the swing had been only a means to think through her problems; that Hal was no more there than anyplace else on earth except, of course, in her heart. But she also knew that because of his final advice, the swing had given her time to shake off some of the sadness and seriousness of her widowed life. It had allowed her many moments of happiness. Because of the swing she had been able to put her life back together after Hal’s death. And now that she was leaving, Ellen tried to think of all the ways she could possibly thank Hal.
When finally it was time to go, Ellen took one last look around the house and then walked out to her special spot. She stayed so long that Charles had to go out and see about his wife who was fiddling with the swing. He took her hand and they made their way to the car. When they drove away, they looked only forward. Ellen hoped the house would not be empty long.
III
Not long after, the new family moved in. While eating dinner, the little boy pointed to something glittering in the yard. Curious his parents put down their forks, picked up the little boy, ventured out to where the swing was moving, as if pushed by unseen hands. There they spotted, on the seat back of the swing, the source of the shine: A golden engraved plaque which read:
There isn’t any problem
there isn’t any thing,
that can’t be thought out
back and forth
from right here on this swing!
With Love and Peace from Ellen and Hal
To You and Yours 2008
They placed the little boy on the swing and sat on either side of him. They began to swing, slowly, gently: The mother supporting the boy to prevent a fall, the father's arm stretched around both of them.
And although they didn’t know it at the time, a lifetime of thinking was ahead of them... And it would all happen right there under the maple tree, right there on the swing.
Cancer claimed him finally on a night much like this one some fifteen years ago. Ellen had opened their bedroom window so he could feel the crisp fall air across his wasted face. He’d asked whether she thought Mother Nature’s paintbrush had worked her magic again and she, looking out at the oranges and reds of the maple tree, agreed that indeed the paint brush had been especially masterful.
For about an hour that evening they’d talked, until he felt parched and wanted a glass of water.
“But before you go,” he’d said, in a voice that was like a whisper on the wind, “promise me that after I’m gone, you won’t let that swing sit idle. If you ever want to talk to me, just go to the swing.” She’d nodded and drew herself up into a tight ball inside.
She knew he was saying goodbye and she could not bear it. Deep in her heart she knew that when she returned to the room, he would be gone, soaring to heights the swing would never reach.
Without looking back or calling out to him, she took off her apron and walked into the yard. She sat on the swing and moved as if her beloved were sitting with her as always. Anyone looking that night would have thought her mad, with her dress flapping, deep rivers of tears flowing from her eyes.
For fifteen years she’d gotten used to being a widow, making a life out of what remained. She raised the children, saw them through college. She celebrated their birthdays, weddings and rejoiced in the births of her grandchildren.
With each new development whether major celebrations like these or minor occasions liked the scraped knees, PTA meetings or getting herself a job - she made a pilgrimage to the backyard and settled onto the swing. This is where she felt closest to Hal. It didn’t matter how good or bad the weather, she talked to him right there.
Tonight was no different.
Ellen had decided to remarry. A chance meeting at her high school reunion had led her to John a man she had barely known in their senior year. She remembered him as a gawky boy with bad skin and big glasses. A widower, he’d grown into a tall, handsome man who wore contacts.
At the reunion, he’d asked her out to dinner at the new French restaurant where they talked for almost until closing. She had no idea how he felt but she knew she’d felt such giddiness only once before in her whole life and with only one man. She had never allowed herself to think it could happen again.
That dinner led to other happy dates and eventually getting married seemed like the only thing to do. Happily she would be leaving the house that had grown so large and ill fitting around her. Sadly she would be leaving behind her beloved swing.
II
Helen knew deep inside that the swing had been only a means to think through her problems; that Hal was no more there than anyplace else on earth except, of course, in her heart. But she also knew that because of his final advice, the swing had given her time to shake off some of the sadness and seriousness of her widowed life. It had allowed her many moments of happiness. Because of the swing she had been able to put her life back together after Hal’s death. And now that she was leaving, Ellen tried to think of all the ways she could possibly thank Hal.
When finally it was time to go, Ellen took one last look around the house and then walked out to her special spot. She stayed so long that Charles had to go out and see about his wife who was fiddling with the swing. He took her hand and they made their way to the car. When they drove away, they looked only forward. Ellen hoped the house would not be empty long.
III
Not long after, the new family moved in. While eating dinner, the little boy pointed to something glittering in the yard. Curious his parents put down their forks, picked up the little boy, ventured out to where the swing was moving, as if pushed by unseen hands. There they spotted, on the seat back of the swing, the source of the shine: A golden engraved plaque which read:
There isn’t any problem
there isn’t any thing,
that can’t be thought out
back and forth
from right here on this swing!
With Love and Peace from Ellen and Hal
To You and Yours 2008
They placed the little boy on the swing and sat on either side of him. They began to swing, slowly, gently: The mother supporting the boy to prevent a fall, the father's arm stretched around both of them.
And although they didn’t know it at the time, a lifetime of thinking was ahead of them... And it would all happen right there under the maple tree, right there on the swing.
When the boy's little baby teeth formed a smile and his laughter filled the air like balloons racing across the sky, they knew for sure that this house had already become home.
###
Written by Pamela Tyree Griffin
Photograph by Kristine Beebe
Photograph by Kristine Beebe
