Chapter 11 - A Porch of My Own
Z
By the spring of the following year, the dust had fully settled.
With the money from the sale of the Lake Oconee house, I paid off my mortgage in Decatur, set up substantial college trust funds for my grandchildren, and made a generous donation to the pancreatic cancer research center where Samuel had been treated.
Then, I took what remained and made one final decision.
I bought a small, one-acre parcel of land in the quiet rolling hills of North Georgia, overlooking a tranquil, unnamed duck pond surrounded by wild dogwood trees. I called Earl Maddox back.
"Are we building another mansion, Dorothy?" Earl chuckled when we met on the empty lot with blueprints under his arm.
"No, Earl," I smiled, breathing in the sweet mountain air. "Just a small, sturdy one-bedroom cottage. But it must have three things."
"Name them," Earl said, pen ready.
"Pine floors," I said. "A stone fireplace. And a wide wrap-around porch with a porch swing positioned facing west, so it catches every single drop of the evening sun."
It took four months to complete. On a warm Saturday evening in late August, I sat on that new porch swing for the very first time. The wood was fresh, smelling of cut cedar and mountain air. To my left, a framed photograph of Samuel rested on a small teak side table beside a glass of fresh iced tea.
Down by the pond, my grandchildren were laughing, throwing breadcrumbs to a family of ducks, while Lorraine sat on the grass beside David, laughing freely without a care in the world.
May you like
The sun began its slow descent below the tree line, painting the Georgia sky in brilliant hues of violet, orange, and soft rose gold. The warm light washed over the porch, resting gently across my lap, exactly where Samuel had always imagined it would.
I leaned back against the cushions, closed my eyes, and listened to the soft creak of the swing ropes rhythmically swaying in the evening breeze. Nobody was changing my locks. Nobody was taking my peace. I was home, and the dream belonged to me once again.
