There is just something about a comfortable chair on the front porch, late on a mid-April evening that sharpens the senses. It is almost a religious experience, a calm moment in a sea of chaos that is life in this busy world. Most of the neighborhood has long since retired for the evening and up and down my street front porches are softly lit with the warm glow of table lamps, standing guard over the house through the night. It is very quiet here in my sanctuary, save for the occasional hum of an air conditioning unit or the distant bark of a dog. This is my time, time for a few chapters in a book and a glass of ice water, maybe a sip of bourbon. Time for pondering, searching for answers, and resting. The light breeze hits me in the face, as my house is oriented to the East and most evenings the sea breezes gently make their way westward from the Atlantic Ocean toward my inland location.
I am blessed in many ways by this idle time. It recharges me, it comforts me, and it completes me. But most of all, in this quiet solitude I feel that I am just where I need to be. I hear the squeak of a door opening and gazing down the street searching for the source of the sound that has disturbed my moment, I see a man emerge from his home and choose a spot in a comfortable chair on a lamp lit porch, and I am happy for him, because I know that he is about to begin to enjoy the quiet as well. As I take my last few sips of bourbon, and close my book for the night, I quietly slip off of the porch into the security of my home, ever so quietly, like in Church, so as to not disturb his peaceful moment. Good Night, friends. Good Night!