The Porch

 

My childhood home had a front porch that ran the length of the house. On the left side was a ping pong table which could be turned on its size if we wanted to roller skate.

On the right were four chairs, two Adirondack chairs and two metal ones. None were comfortable.

The porch looked out on a semi-circular drive. In the middle was a pine grove with over thirty trees. A Robert Frost stone wall separated our property from the street.

In the summer, we'd mosquito-proof the porch by screening it in.

Especially when Uncle Archer and Auntie Maud were visiting my mother and grandmother would join them on the porch after the last supper dish had been dried and returned to its proper place. 

Well almost proper place. When Uncle Archer and Auntie Maud returned to their New Jersey home, on their weekly phone call (he worked for the telephone and had free calls), Dar, my grandmother would ask, "Now Maudie where do you put (fill in the blank)."

There were no chairs for my brother and I. We didn't care. Grownup talk was boring. 

Instead we would catch fireflies. Our goal was to get enough in a jar, never mind two jars one for each, so we could read by firefly light after we went to bed.

We never even came close but we were happy trying. There was always another night.