When the rain comes down and the thunder booms, there is only one place I want to be: the front porch. It has seen me grow. It has seen some fights, new friendships formed, and new loves blossoming. At first glance, it seems like just any old veranda. The paint is chipping away and the boards are splintering.
The same boards have been with me. Each nail, a friend. My children have played on it, as I did. It welcomed each of my babies as they came home for the first time. It witnessed my wedding. It witnessed my engagement. It was where I first realized I would be in love.
Somehow, it survived our busy holidays, supporting much of our family as we filled our bellies and laughed at corny jokes. It still hasn’t burned down, from all the poorly aimed fireworks and careless grilling. It survived that ATV accident, when my sister ran into the house. Only a cinder block was chipped. It survived Hurricane Katrina and many severe storms.
It helped Dillon and I answer our children’s questions about space. It helped agreements be made and problems be solved.
One of the most important things, is that it has felt my tears as they fell from my eyes and onto the old wood. The porch has comforted me, through many days and nights. It watched as I prayed, and the answer come to light. It saw as I mended fences, and destroyed other fences.
I sit in the rocking chair that my grandfather built. I listen to the rain come down and the comforting thunder. My thoughts are gathered here, and my worry laid to rest.
The porch will always be my hang out, my solace, my friend and my family. I pray it sees many more years, to come.
I’ve been meaning to publish this post for two days, but for some reason, it wouldn’t let me publish! Finally, got it up, though! Sorry for the delay, everyone!