Rocking Chair
Behind the Photograph
Some places preserve history. Others invite you to step inside it.
"Welcome. Come sit a spell. Let's talk about old times."
That's what the old rocking chair seemed to be saying to me.
So I listened.
Nada and I had taken a day trip to Cross Creek, Florida, to
visit the home of Marjorie Kinnan Rawlings, whose Pulitzer Prize-winning novel The
Yearling introduced generations of readers to old Florida.
Her home has been beautifully restored.
Walking through it feels less like visiting a museum and
more like stepping quietly into another time.
There was her typewriter, resting on the table as though
she'd just stepped away for a cup of coffee.
The kitchen looked ready for supper.
Old cans lined the shelves.
Eggs rested on the table.
A rolling pin waited where someone had last laid it down.
Every room whispered stories.
Then I walked onto the porch.
There, sitting quietly on the porch, was an old rocking
chair.
Most people would have seen an empty chair.
I didn't.
I could almost see Marjorie's hired hand settling into it
after a long day in the fields.
His straw hat hanging from a nail nearby.
A tall glass of sweet tea sweating in the Florida heat.
Inside the house, his wife finishing supper while clothes
swayed gently on the line outside.
For just a moment...
I wasn't standing in Cross Creek.
I was standing in 1940.
That's one of the things I love most about old places.
If you stand quietly enough...
If you pay attention...
History has a way of introducing itself.
Then, just as quickly as I'd arrived in another time...
I heard a voice.
Not really, of course.
Just my imagination.
But it was clear enough.
"Supper's ready!"
I smiled.
I figured I'd better move along.
Some moments aren't meant to last forever.
They're simply kind enough to let us visit for a little
while.
Photographer's Notes
Cross Creek, Florida
Daytime · Sony A-100
Marjorie Kinnan Rawlings Historic State Park
With Nada
Comments
Post a Comment