The Porch Swing

The crisp black pantsuit on the lady standing by the front door felt out of place next to the old limestone church. The starched navy collar of her oxford and tight fit of the black skirt stood out in sharp contrast to the gentle organic lines of the white magnolia flowers on the wreaths hanging behind her from the large arched oak doors. The lady had been nice to Edith, telling her that she was here to help everyone during this difficult time. She had told Edith to call her Lena but Edith knew she would not approach the woman.

Edith sat in a corner of the room, her charcoal collared dress itching her slightly with its wool knit pattern. She watched silently as her aunt came in with a large black hat on, flowers positioned petitely on the top, tissues in her hand, and a clutch purse tucked under her arm. She looked terrible.

More and more relatives flowed into the church behind her aunt, filing into the chapel one by one. Edith continued to sit still, just as her mother had told her. Her mother was still in the bathroom, unable to compose herself enough to come out.

Edith wasn’t quite sure what was going on, only that her mother had told her that her Grandma was in heaven and that Edith wouldn’t be able to see her again. This made Edith sad because she loved her Grandma very much. They had spent lifetimes laughing about how similar they were. Even their names were the same.

Finally, Edith’s mother, Hattie, came out of the bathroom with a tissue still clutched in her hand, her black dress spotless and elegant. She too had a fashion hat but hers was a charcoal color with lace on top. Edith loved her mother’s hat.

Hattie came over and gently took Edith by the hand. Together they walked into the chapel. Hattie’s hand was uncomfortably cold and sweaty, but Edith knew that she needed comfort right now and did not let go. Slowly the two of them walked to the end of the aisle towards the large crucifix to say goodbye to Grandma.

Hours later Edith sat in the kitchen of her Grandma’s house, surrounded by all the relatives she knew and many more that she didn’t. The house was filled with a lot of people much older than her that kept talking about her Grandma and telling stories, but none of them had been with Grandma as much as she had.

The island in the kitchen where Edith and Grandma would bake goodies was covered in dishes from the neighbors and family friends. Everyone had brought food for the grieving family. No one wanted to cook while they were grieving, and it was polite for the neighborhood to help those in need. Edith was particularly fond of the baked hash brown casserole that was in the middle. She knew it came from Rosalie next door because she would always make it for Edith when she and Grandma would go to girl’s checkers night at Rosalie’s house.

For the first time since she had heard Grandma was gone, Edith felt very alone. In a house that had probably one hundred people in or around it, she felt so very alone. Edith got up and walked outside, sitting in the porch swing that was on the back patio. She had spent many evenings here while Grandma read her stories, usually in the evenings before bed. She was afraid that she wouldn’t be able to sit here much longer because she kept hearing her mother talk about selling the house. She didn’t want to sell the house though; she wanted to keep it and keep coming here. She didn’t want to forget Grandma.

The porch swing sank slightly with the weight of the person who had come to sit next to Edith. Edith didn’t recognize her. It was a younger woman, maybe in her twenties. She had beautiful brown hair done up nicely and was wearing a blue floral dress. As Edith looked at the pattern on the woman’s dress closely, she saw that it was covered in small white daisies. It was beautiful.

“Are you alright sweetheart?” the woman asked gently.

“I miss my Grandma,” Edith said, sniffing at her nose and running her hand under her eyes, pulling away the salty tears that were running down her slightly flushed checks in between the patches of freckles.

“I’m so sorry,” she said reaching over and putting her hand on Edith’s back, “Would you like to tell me a story about her? Maybe it will help you feel better.”

Edith looked up at the woman and was met with beautiful, kind, blue eyes and a smile that made her comfortable. Unlike the lady in the black suit, this woman seemed to genuinely care.

“I loved coming here to see Grandma. We would always have so much fun baking and watching movies together. We would play cards or sit out here together or go pick flowers from the magnolia tree,” Edith said, her voice cracking a little.

“What was your favorite thing to bake with her?” the woman asked, still rubbing Edith’s back gently as they rocked slowly back and forth. The wind blew gently past them, the cool breeze helping to dry the tears on Edith’s face, softly rustling her dark brown hair.

“Chocolate cake,” Edith said, unable to resist the urge to smile, “I loved her chocolate cake. She would always let me stir and lick the bowl. She put chips on top to add a crunch.”

“That sounds like a good chocolate cake.”

“The best,” Edith said, “and it was her secret recipe. No one else knew it. It was three layers and had homemade chocolate icing. I don’t know if I will ever get to taste it again.”

“Well dear,” the woman said, “Maybe she left the recipe somewhere for you to find.”

“I hope so,” Edith said, “But I’m not sure it will ever be the same if she doesn’t make it.”

“She taught you, didn’t she?” the woman asked, a slight lilt in her voice as she spoke, as if she knew a private joke that Edith was not privy to.

“Yes ma’am,” Edith said, nodding fervently.

“Then it sounds like you will be able to make it yourself just fine,” the woman nodded finally as if her words were not to be contended with.

“I have to go now, Edith” the woman said, “But it has been so nice talking to you. I hope to see you again one day.”

Edith reached over and hugged the woman.

“Thank you,” Edith said when she finally let go. The woman simply smiled.

Edith looked down at her feet in her favorite white sandals and began to swing them aimlessly. She’s not sure how long she sat there watching her toes wiggle and thinking about her Grandma but it seemed like forever.

Finally, hungry from the day, she got up to go inside hoping that there would still be food. As she turned toward the back door, she looked up at the small table that sat in front of the porch swing.

There, on the table, was a single slice of chocolate cake and a recipe card. She walked slowly towards the cake and grabbed the fork that was laying beside it. She took a bite. It was Grandma’s cake. It was just as moist and chocolatey as she remembered, with a slight crunch from the chocolate chips that were on top.

She looked up, still chewing the cake, and there by the magnolia tree stood the woman in the blue daisy dress. She looked up too and waived at Edith. Edith waved back before looking down to get another bite. When she looked up again, the woman was gone.

Edith walked into the house, holding the recipe card tight in one hand and the plate with the cake in the other. She sat down in the living room in her favorite armchair, putting the recipe card into her pocket. Her mother and aunt were looking at an old photo album.

“Where did you get chocolate cake, honey?” Hattie asked looking over at her daughter who was chewing thoughtfully, streaks of chocolate icing on her lips.

“She gave it to me,” Edith said with a smile, pointing at a photo in the album of a young woman in a blue daisy covered dress. Below the picture were the words, “Edith Collins, 1891.”