now I get it

My mother could never understand how my dad could sit outside for endless hours apparently doing nothing. And only a couple of years before he died, I began to understand what he was doing all those years.

When I was growing up Dad would sit outside with a small radio and limitless cigarettes. The latter did nothing for his long-term health, but did keep the mosquitoes away. Sometimes he'd listen to faraway Red Sox games, but otherwise I could never figure out what he was doing either. But most days after work and on the weekend after mowing the lawn you could find him sitting on the porch or front steps.

Nearly fifteen years ago I discovered his secret when I began to sit on my own porch. Nothing was exactly the right thing to do out there and I gradually got better at it. That first summer out back I came to appreciate how my father had discovered peace of mind outdoors without the distractions that abound inside. He had his feet firmly planted on the ground all his life, but Dad's thoughts -- and heart, I believe -- soared when he was outside. I finally got it because mine did too.

I no longer have my back porch, but my new fresh air perch has been dubbed a "porch." True, it's seven floors up (watch that first step), but a balcony just doesn't have the same feel. So I've decided that I want a porch again and I shall have one. I have that deep need and longing for an outdoor place to ground myself -- yeah, I mean that -- and someplace where my mind can wander. And on days when I can't sit out there, I can look out at what I've created and my imagination follows.

My father died over a decade ago and nowadays my mom can't understand how I can spend hours in solitary quiet, but she does understand that it feeds me. I've been able to tell her what my father never could. It's so nice to feel that connection with him as the sun warms my face and since I don't smoke, I'm just lucky that the mosquitoes don't show up until dusk.

Edited from original post, May 13, 2005