Some of my favorite memories happened on the front porch. It was a family meeting place for us throughout the years. Tons of butter beans and peas were shelled there, and the ghost stories that would scare the pants off a grown man were improvised by, and told by my dad. No gory details, filled with blood and goes, were ever left out; He was a master storyteller. The night air was crisp and cool, which brought out the fireflies with their green gold glow, as they lit up the dark places in our front yard. The soft chirping of a few crickets and the low croaking of a lone bullfrog set the tone of peace and tranquility for the long night. And at times we felt like we were a million miles away from our nearest neighbor, but only a stone's throw from the nearness of God.
It had been a long, hot, scorching day, and there had been prayer for rain all week at our church. Now dad pointed out of the west where a cloud was making, and the promise of a shower was evident from occasional sharp streaks of lightning moving slowly towards us. Mama felt a sense of relief tonight because all the family members were already home. She made it a point to always leave the front porch light on until each family member was safely indoors for the night, and they had been home for hours. Tomorrow would be another adventure on the front porch. The door curtain of the night was covering the landscape with the sound and sights that Mother Nature and Father Time can only provide. Only the moon and the stars are visible tonight. God seems to have turned the dimmer light down for tonight. Sleep peacefully, the sun will rise again in the morning.
