My parents’ house used to have a large front porch. I can remember my mom and dad sitting out there after dinner during the summer, drinking coffee and watching the sun set.
Last night, from another room, I watched my father get up and push his walker to the front window. He peered out for a few minutes and then hobbled back to his chair.
When I came in, he said, “Just take a look at that out there.”
I walked over to the window and stood where he had stood. The sun was low on the horizon.
“Isn’t that lovely?” he asked. “The sun is… is…” He struggled to find the words.
“It’s setting in the west,” I said.
“Yes, that’s right. The sun is setting in the west, and it’s beautiful,” he said.
One of the best things about this old farmhouse is it’s view across the valley. No one can put a price on that.
This picture was taken one of those first years we lived in the house. (Ignore the kids in front — my hair still doesn’t want to curl the way it’s supposed to, my sister no longer wears cat-eye glasses, my little brother is considerably taller, my oldest brother has passed away, and my middle brother smiles for the camera now.)