On The Porch
Sometimes you just need to have ice cream. Outside. While wearing pajamas. We will be spending a lot of time on this porch very soon. Like right now as I write this (and just finished writing all the words in my notebook).
Right now, while it’s still not too hot and the warm air still feels like the best thing that has ever happened. Right now, there is quiet. And all the words. And the last few pages of my notebook are covered in drawings of butterflies by a certain 5 year old.
Right now there is heartache and sadness. Struggles and pain. And also light. So much light.
On this porch, we smoked all the cigarettes. Then quit and learned how to be here again. We drank all the beer, then that changed, and we again learned how to be here. I nursed Riley. She has played and napped and gardened. We’ve read books and talked and watched the tree bloom. We’ve picked tomatoes and listened to dogs bark and babies cry.
From this porch, the city is both alive and quiet. Especially in the spring. Especially right now.
There’s no place I’d rather be.