Call it what you want-a porch or a veranda. The term doesn't matter as much as the value it holds in the early morning or at the end of a day. It doesn't matter if it's one person sitting there enjoying that first cup of coffee or several sitting around after a long day discussing whatever they choose to discuss. It doesn't matter if it's used for a celebration of a special moment or for the rocking of a little one to sleep as a gentle breeze passes by. Whatever the reason-there is no place like that place called whatever we chose to call it. What does matter are the values of friendship-of family-of conversation and companionship such a place nurtures and develops from one moment to the next. In this era of electronic devices taking over real human interaction where that conversation is turned from people to people face-to-face to cold, hard devices with fingers moving at lightning speed and heads down and where words spoken are nil-that place called whatever you chose to call it is invaluable.
The photo included in this post shows my parents in their early years as a married couple standing in front of my grandparents' farmhouse. I love the photo for many reasons-one being, it shows the screened-in veranda where I played with my cousins. One summer we had some sort of a club. All I remember is clipping things out of magazines and taping them all over one end of that veranda. I recall a stormy summer evening when we were huddled around our grandmother sitting in her rocking chair as lightning struck a poplar tree close by. We all screamed and jumped-a few of us hid in a closet under the front stairs.
Sadly that veranda is gone-ripped away by a new owner who took those peony bushes away as well. But the memories of moments shared at the place of gathering can never be ripped away-for when you gather at such a place-what you experience is priceless.
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