Front Porch Sittin’

This morning the sky had a story to tell in every direction you looked. I love it when the sunrise is so magical, so otherworldly. It makes my heart ache for a place this body has never been. The colors sing chords to my soul, touching a place often untouched. Man-made things don’t speak to me this way, not that deeply. I love the idea of morning coffee in a rocking chair on a front porch off the beaten path. A daily dose of morning magic could do nothing short of recharging the soul. I understand now why the front porch sitting was such a big part of days gone by. A place for neighbors to speak, a place for the family to be, a place of worship outside of stale church walls and stiff pews. A time for slowing down and soaking up the appreciation of the life you have been given. The front porch is where the magic happened and it’s a shame it became a thing of the past.

Our families worked just as hard if not harder but they knew how to slow down and balance better. Convening at the dinner table every meal, to gather and grow their bonds to slow down and take the time. They got up earlier to make it happen but it was so worth it. Today we skip breakfast, grab something as we run out the door, or we stop at a fast food place and eat with one hand while driving with the other barely chewing the food, always in a hurry. We rush everything and everywhere. We saturate our lives with distraction, we eat separately and with a phone in one hand or the tv blaring or both. Do we really know each other anymore?

We forgot how to do things together to make that time. I miss it, though as a child I did not appreciate it, wanting nothing more than to eat as quickly as possible to go back to some grand outdoor adventure. We did more things together, fishing, and all sorts of small things. There was nothing better than a packed lunch and all day on a Sunday casting a line alongside multiple generations. Laughter filled the air along with tips and pointers from the wiser of us all. I remember being taught how to whittle wood on my great grandfather’s front porch, he often carved birds. He also let me shoot the bb gun off the front porch. We would sit for hours rocking and talking, the rocking chair taking my full body to keep it in motion, I was super tiny. Before my Great Grandma passed away I remember petting her cats and sitting on the steps as the front porch was so full all of the chairs were taken. I remember her homemade peanut butter Easter Eggs. Mostly I remember the buzz of conversation and laughter. I think this needs to be a thing again. Whether you are sitting on a porch or on a front stoop I hope you find time to sit and speak kindly to passerbys. Maybe you can just have dinner at the table one day or breakfast, or an afternoon fishing with family or friends. Take the time to get up and eat a proper breakfast without the rush, will ya? Slow down just a little.

Published by izzysconfessions

I was born and raised in the smallest of towns in Southwest Virginia. A town that is extraordinarily active, yet a town that is like it's very own little mini Bible belt. My dad was Baptist, my mom pentecostal, and I'm paranormal. I would venture to say it is somewhat of a family trait. One that is met with equal acceptance and curiosity as much as it is met with skepticism. Individually and collectively so much has been experienced and witnessed at times to such a degree that one might wonder how on earth there is room for doubt. I dont have all the answers, I do not have it all figured out. Im as human as everyone else relying heavily many mornings on a lot of coffee and a little Jesus. In fact, I can't decide what I want for dinner most days. One constant is I cannot go a single day without chocolate. Pour a cup of coffee, or a little tea and whiskey and join me in my confessions of a haunted freak.

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