I love my porch…but you know this already.

I had friends once, Matt and Christie. They were the “cool, older” couple that had their shit together (for the most part) and seemed to really understand the ways of the word. Matt was a writer, of some skill, who lived for his novel. Christie was a graphic artist of great skill who supported them both when Matt lingered too long at jobs that weren’t going anywhere. I met Matt at Borders, where we both worked. His attractiveness grew the more I got to know him. I admit to jealousy. They seemed to have all that I wanted. A stable, loving relationship. A lovely house filled with bits and peices of their life together. A cat with much fur and little to worry about. They were just awsome. And I wanted to be them.

Until I met David, I spent a lot of time with them. I briefly hooked up with one of their friends, but blew it in a fit of manic stupidity. After that, after hurting someone they held close to their hearts, things changed. They got married and started to plan their move. It was a case of “I’ll call them next weekend.” But that weekend never came.

Now they are somewhere in Louisanna, I think. Rumor has it he went back to school. Or was it she who grasped at the idea of a Masters? It doesn’t matter now, because I think I have the ideal I saw in them.

Our house is filled with the remnants of our life together. They are just bits and pieces because Pip seems to eat all the good stuff. But the feeling of safety and warmth envelops this place. The same feeling welomed me at their doorstep. I know I have a home such as they did. One that welcomes all by the golden light of dusk.