The Lost Art of Porch Sitting

I think in my twilight years I want a house with a front porch. It doesn’t have to be a big house. It can even be one of those tiny houses as long as there is room enough in front for a rocking chair and/or a wicker swing.

I see houses all the time that have front porches of all sizes and types and shapes, from wraparounds to those that barely stretch past the entry. But I very rarely see anyone sitting on those front porches. Most people are too busy and have lost that art of being able to sit on their front porches.

I think it’s a lost art. It’s one thing to be physically present on a front porch but be mentally elsewhere, whether it be on social media via all the devices or with thoughts that are a thousand miles away. Sometimes, all you need is a front porch, a rocking chair, and a good book. Or even just the front porch and rocking chair on a beautiful sunny day.

We’re so addicted to our devices that 15 minutes without them can seem like 15 years. It’s easy to spend all that time wondering what you’re missing out on or what breaking news you haven’t heard about. But all that can wait for a few moments of hearing the hum of a creaky porch swing or the song of the cicadas.

People did that back in the day. They’d spend afternoons and evenings on the front porches, visiting neighbors and sharing sweet tea and their lives. They didn’t have devices. Further back in the day, they didn’t have television. Those front porches were their social media, their grapevine, their community all rolled up into one.

Back when I was little, I’d sometimes curl up on a porch swing and fall asleep to the creaky swaying rhythm and gentle breezes blowing. I’m sure that life can’t be THAT simple again, but I wonder if we don’t overcomplicate our lives with too much stuff and too many activities and not enough margin. We can choose to say no to things to have room for rest and reflection.

I want to get good at front porch sitting, not doing anything other than waving at neighbors and being in the moment and hearing the small still voice of God.

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