July 3, 2025: The Porch View

Something special happened tonight on a front porch.

Not just any porch, but the one from my childhood. I spent countless hours running through the grass it faces, chasing lightning bugs and playing football. Yet I always ended up on those concrete steps with friends, consuming thousands of popsicles and drinking from the nearby water hose.

It was our stage for everyday life, where we greeted the mailman and welcomed visitors. Where we handed out Halloween candy and waved at neighbors.

Funny how such a small space can hold such emotional weight, but the meaning often hides until enough years have passed.

The yard is quiet now. The paint on those stairs flakes off in strips, like time shedding skin.

But tonight, something magical returned.

While in town for a quick visit, the July 4th fireworks show took place at the city park, about a mile away. And from that familiar stoop, I could see the explosions in the sky, over the treetops.

The best part was my dad standing beside me, both of us looking at the bursts of color, sharing the same view I hadn’t seen since the early 90s, when I last lived at home.

For a few perfect minutes, time doubled back. Everything was just as it had been.

Breathtaking.

I may have to drink from the water hose next.