For two months, I've known you, my friend, were moving. Moving not by your choice but by the choice of others. Somehow, I managed to put thoughts of this dreaded day in the back of my mind. Maybe if I didn't think about it, this day would never come.
On my way home the other day, I glanced your way and there it was, the moving van. Moving Day. For a moment, I thought I might pull in the drive and tell the movers to leave. Tell them there had been a mistake and you, my dear friend, would not be moving after all. I wanted to pretend I didn't see it. I wanted to cry. I knew there was nothing I could do to change Moving Day so I drove home.
When the I saw the moving van, I saw in the heart of my mind, your legacy to me. Your counsel. Your caring. Your gift of saying what the heart needs to hear.
You were my neighbor. My friend.
Someone else lives in your house now. Moving Day. Another van backed in the driveway. It's not the same. It's not right. I wasn't ready for you to move away.
Moving Day. The people who watched you move to your new home could not have known the blessing that moving van brought them. They will love you. They will be helpless to do otherwise. They will be forever touched by your counsel and caring. They will be mesmerized and awed by the message you bring. They will love you as I and so many others have loved you.
Moving Day.
Monday, July 4, 2011
The Porch People
On the other side of the tracks, literally, is a row of old apartments that has been less than desirable for as long as I can remember. I drive past these apartments every morning and every afternoon. The one on the end has captured my attention and my imagination. It is inhabited by a family I call "The Porch People".
This apartment is two stories, two bedrooms I imagine. There is a front stoop and a side porch. It's that side porch that has captured my attention. It is filled with indoor furniture. An oversized recliner, a bistro table and chairs. A bookcase. A buffet lamp. A laptop. Sometimes a television. From my observations, there are two boys, a little girl, a man and a woman living there. The large teenage boy must live fulltime on the porch. Every morning he is asleep in the oversized recliner. The smaller boy comes out and kicks the chair to wake him. The little girl is always sitting on the front step while her mother sits on the stoop nursing what appears from a distance to be a hangover.
In the afternoons, they sit at the bistro table eating or staring into the computer. Some days, they bring chairs from somewhere to entertain guests on the porch.
I have wondered why, when it is a scorching 90 degrees, they don't go inside. Then I noticed most of the windows are now missing so I guess it makes little difference, inside or out. Today, the window fan was hanging out of the upstairs window, apparently still plugged into the wall.
The porch people have been shopping. They have purchased a gas grill that is nearly as big as the porch. It's in the yard along with various other pieces of inside furniture.
I am fascinated by the porch people. I wonder if they have furniture inside. I wonder if the big teenage boy every goes inside. I just wonder about the porch people. Wouldn't you?
This apartment is two stories, two bedrooms I imagine. There is a front stoop and a side porch. It's that side porch that has captured my attention. It is filled with indoor furniture. An oversized recliner, a bistro table and chairs. A bookcase. A buffet lamp. A laptop. Sometimes a television. From my observations, there are two boys, a little girl, a man and a woman living there. The large teenage boy must live fulltime on the porch. Every morning he is asleep in the oversized recliner. The smaller boy comes out and kicks the chair to wake him. The little girl is always sitting on the front step while her mother sits on the stoop nursing what appears from a distance to be a hangover.
In the afternoons, they sit at the bistro table eating or staring into the computer. Some days, they bring chairs from somewhere to entertain guests on the porch.
I have wondered why, when it is a scorching 90 degrees, they don't go inside. Then I noticed most of the windows are now missing so I guess it makes little difference, inside or out. Today, the window fan was hanging out of the upstairs window, apparently still plugged into the wall.
The porch people have been shopping. They have purchased a gas grill that is nearly as big as the porch. It's in the yard along with various other pieces of inside furniture.
I am fascinated by the porch people. I wonder if they have furniture inside. I wonder if the big teenage boy every goes inside. I just wonder about the porch people. Wouldn't you?
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