The shaking porch and me

It was hard to see the old porch go. When the wind blew hard it would shift just enough to make the house sway. You could feel it lying in bed. But I could trace my adult life in its dried wood and screen. I first sat on the porch as a young adult. Newly married. My brother had made mom a swing and shipped it to her at the beach. I remember marveling at its quality construction, complete with stainless steel hardware. I sat with my new wife on it, and again with my mother. We ate crabs on the picnic table that some old friend of mom's had made. It's heavy boards as thick as bricks, seemed to plant it on the porch. No storm ever budged it. To pick it up was like moving a piano, so we rarely did. The stairs to the porch had Been build badly, and there was about 5 feet clearance for your head at one point. I can still feel the pain of clocking my head on it. We eventually just laughed at it, writing "duck!" At the spot your head hit. Over the years I slowly gained the skills and temperament to help my mother with small repairs; replacing screens, nailing back siding. Then as she aged I took over more responsibilities and replaced doors, and hung new light fixtures. After she passed I spent summers making other improvements. All the while the porch wiggled in high winds and the roof leaked in the rain. I would come back after the winter and find whole screen panels blown out, and new pieces of wood Defeated by salt and sun. " The porch really should be torn down, you know." Said the contractor. This after he had discovered major rot behind two outside doors to the cottage. All those years of small jobs, fun little improvements, stared me in my face, like a dog about to be put down. "Yes, I know." I replied, soon after pulling out my checkbook and signing a contract. "I'll build you a stronger porch, one that does not leak, with screens that you can take out for the winter ." "Thanks, ok." I said, walking away and not daring to look back at those puppy's eyes. Now the house does not shake. Now you do not hit your head on the stairs. Now it does not rain through the roof. All good. But still, sometimes when I walk out late at night, I can imagine the old screen door slamming and in my mind's eye see the small repairs that make the trajectory of my adult life. And that is good too.