My father’s parents owned a large home in Red Lodge, Montana when I was growing up. We lived fairly close, so we didn’t often spend the night at our grandparents’ house, but we visited often. I can remember breakfasts in the kitchen, Thanksgiving dinners in the dining room, and family standing around and talking in the yard. I remember going down to the basement to look at the rag rugs that our grandfather made. I remember hiking from their backyard up the steep hill to the airport. But when I think about that house, there is a lot I cannot remember. I couldn’t draw an accurate floor plan. I know there were bedrooms upstairs, but I can’t remember where the bathrooms were located or how many there were. I think my grandparents’ room was downstairs, not up, but I am not completely sure.

I do, however, remember the swing on the front porch. It was about 4 feet long - room enough for two persons. It was hung on chains from large hooks screwed into the rafters of the covered porch. I can remember sitting on the swing going back and forth before I was tall enough for my feet to reach the floor.

Somehow that swing has become one of my treasured memories. It came to my mind when we purchased our current home, which has a small south-facing front porch. None of the other homes where we have lived have had porches suitable for a porch swing. One of my first reactions to this house, before we decided to make an offer to buy it, was that the porch might be a good place for a swing.

I got my porch swing yesterday, at least sort-of. With five grandchildren, full of energy and enthusiasm, I decided that a swing hung from the rafters was an invitation to some wild activity that could, potentially, endanger the beautiful window that looks out onto the porch. In place of a “real” porch swing, I purchased a wooden glider that swings from a base on the floor. It is about the size that I remember the swing on my grandparents porch - just right for two people.

There were rain showers yesterday afternoon and evening and it was chilly outside. This is our first spring in this house and only our second spring in the Pacific Northwest, so we don’t exactly know what to expect, but it seems like spring has been a long and drawn out season with lots of rain and not many really warm days. Temperatures in the 50s and 60s are comfortable, but just a little bit cooler than I think of as days to sit on the porch.

Nonetheless, when the swing arrived, I set to work right away to unpack it and assemble it. The swing was complete except for being short of one 1/4 inch flat washer. I rummaged through my toolbox in the garage, but found no suitable washer. A quick trip to the farm, where I have such things fairly well sorted resulted in finding the needed washer and the swing was soon ready for a test sit.

After supper, we put on our shoes and jackets and went out to swing for a little while. It was very pleasant to sit there and watch the folks going back and forth in the neighborhood. But it was chilly and before long we were back indoors. As has been true most evenings this spring, we were soon on the other side of the house in front of the fireplace, a very good place for reading books and talking about the day’s events and activities.

When I think of it, a porch swing seems to be a piece of furniture that is appropriate for our stage of life.

In the early afternoon yesterday, we were talking with our daughter-in-law. We had watched our three-month-old grandson while she worked at her counseling practice for a couple of hours. He is at a stage where caring for him is an easy job. He is quite content without his mother for a couple of hours, sleeping in our arms, or lying awake and looking at the world. He is at the stage where he likes to lay on a quilt on the floor and move his hands and feet, but doesn’t yet roll over and will stay on the quilt. The sunlight through the window, a soft toy just within his reach, or simply the movement of his hands and feet entertain him pretty well. But when his mother returns, he hears her voice and thinks about eating and begins to fuss. She will ask us if he had been fussy all the time she was gone, but the answer is usually that he was not. The challenge to our day yesterday was that his older brother was not feeling well and we got a call from the school. I picked him up from the school and brought him home. It was no surprise, as one of the girls had been out of school for a couple of days with a cold earlier in the week. Their mother, however, was greeted after working with clients for a couple of hours, by one child who arrived home with cold symptoms and hungry for lunch and another who was crying to be fed. After she got the kids settled, she sat for just a moment and we asked what we could do to help. She said, “Everything! I need everything.” It was just a brief moment of being tired in the midst of a very busy life. Our son had been away from home late in the evening for meetings a couple of evenings this week, she had had extra responsibilities with a child home from school. She had to bundle up the baby and whichever child was home from school and take them with her when she gave the other children rides to and from school. The baby is up in the night needing feeding and sick children need attention and her clients face crises and there are a lot of demands on her time. I know the feeling. What would really help is a nap. I remember the days of young children at home, juggling work and home and a host of other responsibilities. I’m busy these days, but not that busy.

Porch swings might be more suited to grandparents who have the luxury of sitting down for a while. It is going to be several years before our son and daughter-in-law have much time to sit on a swing, watch the world go by, and think.

Perhaps, with proper care, our swing will be around for duty at their house when their children are grown. Maybe by then they will have gotten around to adding a porch to their house. For now, both the swing and the luxury of time to sit on it live at our house. I would like it to be just a little bit warmer, however. I can always find something to complain about.