When That Sun Is Sinking Low: Porch Time With My DaughterSerge Bielanko
This is just a small ode to a grand tradition, that’s what this is.
It’s a little homage to something dads have been doing for a long time, so it isn’t anything real original on my part. But it’s something that has the weight of forever attached to it in the form of memories that probably, in some fashion or another, continue to linger on, mixing in with ether and the atmosphere, rubbing shoulders with other long gone daddy’s memories many many years after they have departed this Earth.
I’m talking about sitting on the porch with your kid or kids, in the summer evening, as the long hot day slides away.
And just so you know, it doesn’t have to be a porch where you sit. It could also be a ‘stoop’ or ‘the front steps’, depending on what part of the world you live in. You can practice this ancient art on a bench, too. Or on a tree stump as long as there’s room enough for both of you. It could be on a front car bumper where you plop your butts, or even a back bumper if it’s westward facing.
Some dads like to dangle their long legs right off the edge of a dock or a pier, their best little guy or gal right there beside them.
And some, they like to get their kid and climb out on a roof somewhere to wind down the day.
Wherever it takes place isn’t the important thing. The important thing is that it is going down. Dads like me are still heading outside for that twilight chat with their children, taking a little time to shoot the breeze with the person who means the most to them, and who needs them the most.
For me, it’s usually me and my three year old daughter Violet, on our favorite porch swing. See, just in time for summer, we are back in the resurrected home we lost to a fire back in January and we’re lucky and we know it. We didn’t even lose ONE night of summertime porch sitting because of that dumb blaze.
The fire came around in the winter…and the house was fixed back up by late spring.
So, for that reason alone, I try not to miss too many nights of being out there with my kid. As the sun creeps down below the distant hills and the lightning bugs appear to be in the trillions, we sit and talk our nonsense and giggle at the very fact that we’ve made it.
We’ve conquered yet another day, together and alone. But, mostly together.
And if all this sounds like some kind of a long-winded beer commercial read aloud by a guy with a tender-ish grizzled voice, so be it. I don’t care. Because that’s how she makes me feel, when we’re parked on the porch, just the two of us and that old disappearing sun.
So trust me. And try it tonight.
Or tomorrow night at the latest.
You can also find Serge on his personal blog, Thunder Pie.
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