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Passing Time on the Front Porch in Early Autumn

By Remy Benoit

As I said here a few days ago, each of us has a story to tell; to share; to help heal the world with.

When we did Louisiana in Words. each of us was asked to share one moment in our lives here.

When you think about one moment it seems like such a tiny bit of time, yet so very much can happen in one moment that can forever change your life.

Perhaps in one moment you made the decision to turn off to a street on the right and avoided an accident.

Perhaps in one moment, ah, across the proverbial crowded room you saw the one you had been waiting for so long.

Perhaps in one moment you lost your buddy to an IED, to a Bouncing Betty, to a sniper shot and your heart broke, and remains in tatters.

One moment, one brief moment in time.

Perhaps in one moment the world lit up in silvers and golds as the morning light touched the growth in your front yard and you knew, beyond any doubt, that you had somehow, in some unexplainable but immense way, become one with Creation.

Perhaps in one moment you decided it was time to vote, to write letters because you read something that said to you, this is not our way.

At this moment, the stray cat that we call Kerouac because he just appeared one day on our road is asleep on a picnic table; the yard dog is watching just in case a stray squirrel might give her something to bark at, something to say I am protecting this place. At this moment, there is relatively low humidity, only 50%; the Live Oaks are just briefly rustling in a soft, warm breeze. The stray cat who lives on our porch is asleep; the hanging pots are dripping water gently down from their morning refreshment. All seems so quiet, but if we were to get down closer to the earth, we would see the fire ants busily trying to build yet another mound; we would see, but only with the help of a magnifying glass, the tiny crawdads building one of their intricate mounds; we might find several blue-tailed geckos wandering about under the front steps; we would find the barn spider asleep above the web she will rebuild tonight.

In fact, then, all is not still, nor quiet – life is living itself in countless forms just on my front yard. What is happening on yours?

What is happening on the front porch of your heart? Who are you missing? Where would you like to be in this one moment in time? What one moment in your life would you like to go back and relive; how do you think that would change the life you are living?

If you could re-live one moment of your childhood, re-live one moment with your own child, would you choose to experience it the same way you remember it; would you choose to change it a bit; would you have a certain fear that perhaps it was not as wonderful as you remember it; would you like to go back and mend the hurt that you carry from it?

One of the thoughts that crossed my mind this morning sitting on the rail of my front porch was that we are through the worst of hurricane season and have been spared that this year while we are still mending from the destruction of Katrina. And that thought brought back memories of the trees bending in the wind until they snapped and crashed.

That thought brought up weeks of washing all our things by hand in icy cold well water brought up by a generator – that thought brought back memories of icy cold showers – of meals, sort of meals, made on a small propane cooker – of so welcomed coffee water being boiled on that tiny cooker and dripped through the coffee and filter to wake us up and get us ready for another day of post-storm cleanup and carrying on.

Those thoughts brought back the horror we felt when we finally, weeks later, got to see what had happened to our beloved city; to Waveland in Mississippi that just ceased to be.

The pictures came to mind of my friend’s home in Lakeview that was drowned in water for weeks with the things in it barely recognizable.

Compared to all that, even with all the life forms doing whatever they do on my front lawn, the view from the front porch on this autumn morning is one of peace, of quiet,indeed, of gratitude for those.

Tell us your story – what is happening in your present moment in time.

If you need help, just let me know at Gentle Editing. Reduced rates for Veterans.

If you would like to help with the costs of maintaining this site, please, just click on Donations and do the Pay Pal thing. Thanks so much.

Blessings to all,
Miz' Remy


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This item is part of historian, author, editor, and educator Remy Benoit's ongoing weblog for Veterans, writers, students, and others who believe in learning from and making history; including thousands of articles and posts and the free writing seminar, Using History for Healing and Writing.

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