I’m alone on the front porch. The sun beats down on my legs, but my face is sheathed in shade. Wind rustles the trees, transforming their song to that of the ocean waves.
The birds chatter and sing; unfazed by the wind and by my presence.
I can’t look upon myself, but I feel timeworn and weary from the path I’ve trod; experienced in things I wish I wasn’t, and heavy-hearted by the effort.
I recall myself, sitting in this exact spot twenty years prior. The same birdsong, the same wind, the same ocean of trees. Oh, how little that young girl really knew – so confident in her strength to weather the next years of her life, and not truly knowing the journey or the difficulty to come.
Oh, she knew there’d be something, and her heart had sighed at the unknown then; hesitant to continue ahead, yet knowing there was no turning back. Such an easy time that was. I smile at her naivety, and shake my head.
The sun caresses my face now, and it’s time to go. I slowly make my way down, down the rickety stairs, and duck to slide into the back seat of the car.
And as we pull away, I turn to look just one more time, so I can remember.