Letter from the Porch
Posted: Saturday, May 15, 2010
by Richard Radtke
http://www.cottagebythelane.com
I was greeted with a letter today from someone whom I have never met, although perhaps someday I may. It was a wonderful letter, written with care, full of memories, and sprinkled with tears. The author wrote of the porches and homes that she had known since her childhood, she wrote of bits and pieces from the past, weaving them all into a tapestry of life that was full and true. The words that she used, were just words but through them the pulse of the emotions that lay beyond came through. The stories she told were hers and hers alone, each in turn, has been told before and will be told again. Each one of them common to all of us in some way. The bits and pieces that she wrote spoke with nostalgia, of love in the spring, and the growth that summer brings, they were the words of a neighbor sitting on your porch as the setting sun finds the solace of rest behind the faraway horizon.
The little girl that she once was talked of the clear night sky filled with stars that shimmered and shined, the moon hanging heavy in the western sky. She wrote of storms gathering, growing with awesome force in a darkening sky, and the crashing of thunder while she stood mute and watched with a little girls wondering eyes. As I read her written words, I felt that I too was there, I could see the storm blowing in, feel the first chill winds tugging at my shoulders as the storm grew into a mighty thing, the rumble of the thunder as it announced its arrival with a ground-rattling boom. In my minds eye I stood beside her and her family and grandfather too, and watched the wheeling stars in the pin-pricked sky, felt the cool breath of the gentle evening's breeze.
She spoke of her parents, their lives and dreams, of her father returning from overseas at the end of the first one in 1919. Her parents courtship and marriage, of new branches growing on the old family tree. In time her parents took over the beloved family farm, she, and her brother, and sister grew up there, their memories adding to its charm. One day she married, moved away, but the farm still stayed in the family, and still is today. She and her husband are now retired and live in a town. The home that she spoke of still sits by the side of the road, its old porch still beckons to those who pass.
Many of the things she told of may come to pass in my life over time, eventually my children will grow up to, and maybe then my wife and I will retire and just sit on our porch and tell stories to our grandchildren of days gone by. I visited the old house that she spoke of, stood in its hall, and sat on the porch and thought of its memory filled past. Like the porch of our old home, it has old-fashioned columns that were spun on a spinning lathe, and the paint clings to their curves in a half-hearted way, chalky and discolored with age, but the old porch is a comfortable place, it fits the soul, and if you sit very still and listen, perhaps you can hear the squeak of her grandfathers chair as he sits and stares, recounting all the memories living there....
Author's Note:
The letter referred to in this story arrived a few days ago from a lady who had read the story that I wrote some time ago entitled, "Porches". The letter was full of memories, and I was delighted to receive it. I read it through and was so struck with its contents, that I felt this short essay which I have titled, "Letter from the Porch" needed to be written and shared.
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Top-level comments on this article: (1 total)I'm glad you did share it, Richard, your article was a wonderful journey back in time.Richard,This, as well as your other beautiful creations was a treat to read. Thank you for sharing your wonderful talent.
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