My Front Porch

“My Front Porch”

         The two-person swing, hung by chains from the ceiling, is rocking gently in the autumn breeze. Six wind chimes, evenly spaced, are suspended above the white railing of the wooden porch. The delicate chimes serenade tender melodies, never to be duplicated, to the potted flowers along the wall. It seems like just yesterday, when we placed those flowers to be drenched in the morning sunshine. I watched the sunset, absorbing the peaceful beauty, listening, reminiscing of past days, when I didn’t take the time to listen.

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         Fall leaves scatter across the wooden porch, as if in a hurry to gather in the corner, with other fallen leaves. The windowpane mirrored the constantly changing colors of the setting sun. My days of hustle and hard work have been replaced by retirement. The love of my life, my wife, my best friend, took her last breath nearly six seasons passed. Now, I am alone here where we laughed and talked, on this lovely porch; I remember all we shared and how we cared. An occasional visit from my sons, and my grandchildren brighten my spirits, but those days are few and far between.

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         The man in black walked up the steps and leaned against the handrail. He smiled and said, “That is an enchanting melody your chimes sing, and this is a beautiful and peaceful porch.”
His gaze swept the porch and fixed on the sunset in the window.
         “The season is changing. Are you ready,” he asked?
         “Indeed I am," I responded without hesitation. “I have been expecting you.”
A maple leaf floated down to rest on the floor, and was whisked into the corner with a soft gust of autumn wind, and a tender melody.

Stephen Becker