1 Notes
Old Porch
Jake puts the last board in place. There’s a snap, but it’s not as loud as he wishes it would be, considering the time and effort that went into everything before it. Weekend upon weekend he put into this. Friday nights he could have been going out, Saturday mornings he could have been sleeping in, Sunday afternoons he could have been working on his Call of Duty kill-death ratio. And for what? For a new porch? Jake really wishes that snap had been louder.
He grabs the nearby hammer and begins knocking in the final four of those skinny nails. New porch. How many summers until this new porch becomes an old porch? How many barbecues? How many mint juleps? He remembers being a kid and staying at his grandfather’s. Back then he would sit out on that old porch, down on the floor next to his grandfather’s feet. With a Snoop Dogg cassette in his Walkman and Super Mario Land in his Gameboy, he would sit there until either the batteries died or the sun went down. Grandpa Joe would do the same, except with mystery paperbacks and John Coltrane on a turntable.
Today Jake stands up and looks at his finished work. He tries to imagine the crisp new boards looking old. He tries to imagine himself looking old. He can’t. He knows he won’t be listening to John Coltrane and reading paperbacks, but what will he be doing instead? Still blasting Snoop Dogg and playing some old Mario game on some new Gameboy? Probably.
Now seems like a good time to wash his hands and make that first mint julep.
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(written based on the TypeTrigger “Old Porch.” For more, visit my TypeTrigger)
