Front porches are for sharing a weathered, wooden bench that’s been around longer than both of your ages, combined and then some.
They’re for enjoying a popsicle and conversation until dusk settles and the fireflies come out and then dark falls and you start to wonder where on that bike trail your husbands could still be, but not too much because they’re certainly just fine and you’re enjoying this time they’ve given you to yourselves.
Front porches are for sharing visions about the future, and giggling over a newly printed stack of photos from months past, and calling another friend on speakerphone and leaving a message to let her know that right there, on that porch, the two of you are thinking of her.
They’re like a pause button for life, I think. A sphere of space where it’s OK to just sit and watch the world — or just the neighbors — go by.