Hey, everyone. One of my earliest childhood memories were those times when we traveled to my aunt's house. She was the sweetest lady. She and her husband were quite old and had a small home that sat on a hill. Since they were retired, they had the time to keep their yard up beautifully. There were loads of bushes and flowers, and best of all, fruit trees. My aunt would pick fruit for me and we'd sit on the porch and she'd teach me about things. "That's an apple tree," and so on.
The front porch was very high off the ground and overlooked a highway. We would watch cars go by and my uncle would say, "Chevrolet" or "Ford". He was not a great conversationalist.
The reason I bring this up is because I was just sitting on my front porch and noticed that I had painted it green, just like my aunt's. It is also 8 feet wide, so that the rain can't reach the swing, just like my aunt's.
I wonder if, sub-consciously, I built my porch to be similar to her's? I haven't thought about her for a long time, and certainly not about her porch. I recollect that the porch floor felt cool and clean on my bare feet. I remember her hugs were special, warm and tender. I remember that she would fix peanut butter and jelly sandwiches for me. She also gave me a nickname, which people call me to this day.
On the negative side, my aunt had the disconcerting habit of eating her own boogers. I am convinced, looking back, that this limited her circle of friends, but I still loved her. It's funny how you remember things when you start getting older and something triggers a memory, good...or gross.
So, today I sit here on my porch and think about that other porch. I think about my aunt and how good she was to me. I think about her lace curtains blowing in the wind as I took a nap. Then I think about how I'd like to see her again, someday, in that next life.
From the author's green porch, I'm CE Wills.
The front porch was very high off the ground and overlooked a highway. We would watch cars go by and my uncle would say, "Chevrolet" or "Ford". He was not a great conversationalist.
The reason I bring this up is because I was just sitting on my front porch and noticed that I had painted it green, just like my aunt's. It is also 8 feet wide, so that the rain can't reach the swing, just like my aunt's.
I wonder if, sub-consciously, I built my porch to be similar to her's? I haven't thought about her for a long time, and certainly not about her porch. I recollect that the porch floor felt cool and clean on my bare feet. I remember her hugs were special, warm and tender. I remember that she would fix peanut butter and jelly sandwiches for me. She also gave me a nickname, which people call me to this day.
On the negative side, my aunt had the disconcerting habit of eating her own boogers. I am convinced, looking back, that this limited her circle of friends, but I still loved her. It's funny how you remember things when you start getting older and something triggers a memory, good...or gross.
So, today I sit here on my porch and think about that other porch. I think about my aunt and how good she was to me. I think about her lace curtains blowing in the wind as I took a nap. Then I think about how I'd like to see her again, someday, in that next life.
From the author's green porch, I'm CE Wills.
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