The Swing and Tent Part 2 / The Rain

The swing itself was blocky. Two by three inch blocks made up the the seat, twenty five or so lined up across the width. The same kind of wood made the back rest, only spaced out every other block. The armrests had to be a bit wider, the chains attached there towards the front and back of the armrest.

Right around the time the swing went up, so did the tent: a large party style canopy that covered the swing and the area in front of it. Every year Pop Pop pulled out the box that stored the green tent and I carried out the poles. The aluminum poles were tricky to get standing on their own, I often had to hold one up while Pop Pop spaced another pole at the right length. Once the tent began to take shape, the taller center pole was put underneath in the middle. This had to be placed well ahead of the swing, so that no one would hit it when they swung back and forth. Two lines each secured the corner poles, steamed into the ground a few feet off to either side. The poles in the middle of the corners had only one line.

With the green framed swing placed at the back half of the canopy, there was room for other chairs and stands at the front half. 'The swing,' as that area was always referred to, was used a lot. Pop Pop talked with me about the vegetables and tomatoes in the garden. Mrs interesting were his stories about the war, or what he did with Uncle Chet 'back in the day.'

Grandma sat their all the time after she made her rounds through the yard, more often, I guessed, when I wasn't around. When I was around we would sit and talk about anything: what was new in school, how the flowers were coming in, or the weather for the coming days. Some evenings my great aunt from down Winterpark Drive came to visit anc sat outside with Grandma.

"Hi Aunt Sophie," I said, walking down the yard to the swing.

"Hello," she'd say in a soft voice, and I would take my spot in between them.

From there we watched the world go by, birds and squirrels, people and cars. We made a game of guessing what color car would go by next, or how many cars would pass of a certain color.
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The Rain

At that age I thought I had the power to control the weather. On rainy summer days at Grandma's house, when I longed to be outside, I walked up to the front door and stared stoically out onto the lawn and street. The rain always came down harder there, it seemed, than at my house. The millions of clear, cool raindrops streaking to earth made a blurry picture of the neighborhood. When it rained harder, I could no longer see the tree tops down Winter Park Drive, or from the back door, Aunt Steffie's house through the woods.

"Rain, rain, go away," I said in a dark, foreboding tone, as deep as my eight year old voice could go. "Come again another day."

I didn't intend to scare the storm by saying it in that way, that was simply how something important had to be said. Besides, it worked for me almost every time. After a while I pictured the storm watching me, almost waiting to hear my command from behind the screen door of 27 Autumn Drive.

Never mind the fact that they were typically pop-up thunderstorms on humid summer evening, or that we lived in New England. If I wished hard enough, stopping the rain was possible. If I tried hard enough, I could do anything.