Those Summer Nights

My grandmother's porch was the place to be on a summer afternoon and evening. The screened-in porch sat on the front of her old cedar-shingled house at a corner of two quiet streets that led to just a few other houses.

From pretty much any perch on the porch it was easy to see who was walking down the lane from Price's market up the road or who was coming over from my aunt and uncle's house just two dwellings away. Back then the road wasn't paved so it always took my feet a couple summertime visits to adjust to the ouchies they felt as I ran with my cousins from one house to the other.

Some nights there were only a few on the front porch. It might be my grandmother, my mom, and maybe another person-usually a relative I didn't really know. We kids were in and out all night, as we sprinted through to go inside for a quick drink with Mason Jars full of fireflies grasped in our hands.

Rainy nights might find us all jammed in together as we watched the summer storms light up the sky. As long as the wind wasn't blowing rain through the screens we were content to sit there and talk or play a few rounds of Go Fish.

The porch swing creaked as it swung- always a full seat, with kids and at least one adult with legs long enough to push off from the gray wooden floorboards. Approaching cars meant the dog would start barking and right on cue the rest of us would tell him to hush up.

If someone were to grant me one wish I think I'd use it to go back there for just a few more nights to soak in those people, those sounds and smells, and all that love.