I believe in my front porch.
My front porch was built by my son and I during the last days of summer 2001, during the three weeks before he began his sophomore year at The Ohio State University.
My front porch was built to watch storms come in, greet passing neighbors, read, have a morning coffee or an evening beer.
The morning of September 11th, 2001, my son and I were waiting for the building inspector to show up and approve what we had finished in order to move on to the next stage of the project. He showed up at 9:45 with horrific news.
I cried on that porch a few nights later, by myself before it was finished, sort of got it out of the way.
Now the porch is finished. I sit, talk to my wife about her day, my son about his life and my neighbor about her grandchildren.
In fall I decorate the steps with pumpkins and pass out candy to ninjas and princesses. In winter it twinkles with lights and tinsel. In spring I wash and paint it and in summer at dusk, beer in hand I water the flowers and two small trees that grow around it.
Passing neighbors tell me how much they enjoy what I have done to the house.
“That porch makes the house” they say. “It’s what it needed.” I have to agree. It’s what it needed.
I believe in my front porch, it’s many functions, the process that built it and it’s potential for nothing but good.
My front porch will probably outlast me. I built it strong. I sometimes wonder who will sit on my front porch after I’m gone. Who will take care of it? Will they appreciate it? I hope they understand?
My front porch greets people. Although the paper carrier can never seem to find my front porch many others find it just fine.
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