Porches

I was sitting on my neighbor's porch with a drink, above the lemonade stand at the sidewalk's edge. My 10-year old was threatening to skateboard down the 10 or so cement steps to the commerce area. People walked by, and more than a few bought lemonade from the 3 little sales girls.

One woman crossed the street and stealthily bent down to put out her cigarette--beyond the view of the lemonade stand but in view of the porch. She bought her fifty-cent lemonade then took a loop around and retrieved her cigarette. With a smile she crossed back over and cut back through the alley, probably going home.

Years ago, I was talking about my neighborhood to a friend. She was shocked that I lived in D.C., proper. She had lived her life outside the beltway in Va. "The difference between my street and yours," I told her, "is that when an ambulance or firetruck arrives you part your curtains to see what's happening. We go down to the sidewalk to see."