A Precious Porch

Oklahoma's nipping water had worn out the gray, crumpled, screen porch. It had been built with grandfather's sturdy hands. Splashes of dirt lie around the steps that led to the door. A cold wind whirled up a musky smell. Suddenly a whistling wind flew through the room. It's chilling breeze froze the hair on my arms. I walked without shoes on the cold cement. The chilling floor froze my feet. The soft whisper of the rain made me relax. I glanced at the top of the weary, old roof. I could see water slowly dripping into a crumbling, tin barrel. The barrel sat outside the screen door and had caught millions of tiny raindrops. The piercing rain had worn the barrel out.

Rusty, old nails held up the warped walls. They cracked and squeaked when the wind blew. The sound was disturbing to my soul. The pit-pat of the rain made me feel calm and assure once again. The porch was like my grandfather. It was young and strong in its earlier years. That made me cherish it.

Grandfather's worn-out mattress sat inside the screen porch. I could smell a weak touch of mildew in it's aroma. A foreign smell of musky rain drifted through the room. The porch felt surreal. It had aged so badly from the weather and changed so much throughout the years. I took a look around the room once more. Through my eyes I could see how it now looked old and desolate. The thought of them tearing it down made me feel dreadful, like I was loosing my grandfather all over again.

I can remember the rocks made of ice. They would fall from the sky and beat really hard on the roof top. Then, discovering from my grandfather that this was called hail. Even the bright, hot, sunny days we spent just laughing under his screened porch. As I stared up at his stuffed rooster that he had hanging above his bed, which really creep-ed me out. Yet, he knew this and would make jokes about it showing me that there was nothing to worry about. How could time pass by so quickly?

The porch had stood faithfully through rain, sleet, hail, snow, and even extreme heat. Now the porch is worn down and can no longer stand. It had grown old as my grandfather did. He was gone and soon the porch would be too. There's only one thing that will always remain-soft, quiet thoughts of a precious porch in my memory.