Front Porch Review
A literary magazine for the young at heart and mind

 
            As time allows I enjoy sitting on my backyard bench and considering my surroundings. Directly across the yard my Italian neighbor’s six-foot wooden fence allowed me to improve my landscaping – clematis vines grasp it with purple-flowered fingers. Yet this fence denies me easy access to casual visits as it is too tall to my liking. Still Candida and I do enjoy chatting over it, disembodied voices just like Wilson and Tim in the TV show Home Improvement.  Do good fences really make good neighbors?
            My grandchildren’s playhouse sits near the back fence to my left, and I find joy in watching them play. Once upon a time, I looked forward to having my grandbabies come and visit Grandma for sleepovers, visits and playtime. What I did not plan for was having my grandchildren and their parents, my daughter Carrie and her husband Wes, living with me for an extended period. The recession and three babies in quick succession have been obstacles to their leading an on-the-tracks life. Mi casa es su casa.
            My grass needs cutting, and there is still the spot where the grass just does not seem to grow. Could it be that there my children had their beloved sandbox? The one built by their Dad, with all their names painted on the sides. I see them playing, building castles and roads in the sand. A breeze blows above my head, and my wind chimes play a lovely tune.  John, my husband, does not care for chimes, but he humors me because he knows they bring me contentment. Found: one good man.
            Creeping Charlie keeps wending its way into my yard from my back neighbor’s yard. I attack it once again and notice my Lilies of the Valley encroaching into her territory. I cannot help but wonder which offends more. I see Celine out one day, we chat over her split rail fence, and I forget the Creeping Charlie and think about how nice it is to visit with her.
            I see the birds at my feeders nibbling at the seed the squirrels left behind for them. They seem to be happy with the leftovers.
            I glance to my right towards our deck and remember the many happy summer meals shared at our table. Most enjoyable are the Sunday breakfasts with John where we linger over the Tribune and laugh, “We’ll never get anything done at this rate.” Oh, the joy of being lazy.
            A look to my left – there are my lovely lilac bushes. Their beautiful smell, with us for such a short time, reminds me of the glories of spring. How proud my son Chris was to purchase these for me for a Mother’s Day many years ago.
            Behind me is the Monzella’s home, no fence here. Jackie, my younger daughter, has been a big sister to their children since they moved in eighteen years ago. Their driveway has been the scene of many of our family graduation parties. Their dog likes to visit my yard; it must be the shade.  We have been blessed with caring neighbors, our second families.
            I observe much from my bench. My yard may be small, but it is sufficient for my needs. It provokes a lifetime of memories. Life is indeed good.

By Lois Wagner

Lois Wagner was born and raised on the south side of Chicago and now resides in the western suburbs just outside Chicago. Lois has come to find senior citizens to be of special interest to her, even more so since celebrating her sixty-fifth birthday.

After many years of caring for her Mom and helping her husband care for his aging parents, she has come to have a new perspective on the act of aging. You might say she finally sees the beauty in growing old.

Lois volunteers at her local Senior Center and finds great happiness in engaging her clients at the Center in the lively art of conversation; and if you don’t find her there, she will probably be taking care of her grandchildren or have her nose buried deep in a book.