Front Porch Rambles

In the darkness, he heard the quiet crying of a baby.  3 am wakings were not unheard of in the Gabler household, but Charles wasn't usually out of bed when they happened.  He got up from the rocker and threw down his cigar.  Inside, he heard nothing but the loud breathing of the first-grader.  He stood outside the door like a ninja bodyguard, ready to pounce in silently and swiftly if the need should arise.  The silence persisted, he guessed the baby had settled back down.  With all three boys asleep in one room, it was seldom worth creaking open the door for an actual look. On his way out, he caught sight of the beer bottles left behind when date night relocated.  As he tidied up he thought he heard the cry not from within, but seeping through the screen windows on the front of the house. The moment he stepped outside, he knew the baby was somewhere nearby.  It was outdoors too, or he'd never have heard the low but clear garbles and squeaks. ...

The door to Mom and Dad's room was open, he could hear them chatting about who knows what.  He walked in slow and steady, and made straight for the dark place under the desk.  His parents leaned facing each other on the bed, Dad's back was turned.  It didn't seem like Dad was going anywhere soon, so he laid down on the floor and listened.   He didn't understand the words they were using, but the sound of it made him feel safe.  He closed his eyes and began to snore. He was just dreaming of pancakes when he woke suddenly at the sound of the bed springs shifting.  A familiar sound, one that for some reason always made him want to go outside.   Mom turned out her light and rolled over, snuggling into the quilt.  Dad stood up from the bed and pulled his gym shorts on. That was his cue.  He rose on all fours and poked his head out from his hiding place.   While Dad walked back and forth through the house a bit picking up dishes and findi...

The old man who lived across the street sometimes glared at Jeremy while he sat smoking, his lawn waiting very patiently for a trim.  In the 8 years he had lived here, he had never learned the man's name.  So long after moving to the neighborhood it would have been awkward to seek introductions.  Jeremy thought of him as a man with nothing else to do but dedicate himself to a nicely tended lawn and well maintained landscaping.  This was in part due to the spotless emerald carpet that left no doubts as to property lines, but also due to the 8 plastic cans in varying hues that appeared on the curb every Monday morning on yard waste day.  Without fail, Jeremy had never seen less than 3 bins out week after week.  He sometimes wondered if the old man was slowly digging out an in ground pool in the backyard, or perhaps something more nefarious.  No, there was the old woman, poking her head out to check on his progress.  This was real life after all, n...

The dog pouted when told to remain inside, but Jeremy was tired of getting up in the middle of a thought to let the indecisive creature back in.  He needed his thoughts to flow smoothly, and his fingers to be uninterrupted. He was never an excellent typist, although he had once taken a class and fared well enough.  That was all fine and good though.  He didn't need sixty words a minute, he just needed the right words. He had been an avid reader since The Pokey Little Puppy and adored Probe, Scrabble , and any other word game he could find.  He would sneak peeks at his grandpa's crosswords, half-filled with scrunched letters. The nondescript ballpoint pen sat atop the paper like a silent guardian.  Mostly the puzzles were references he didn't understand, but he listened when adults talked to each other and had picked up some trivial knowledge from before his time.  He had never dared sully the clean newsprint squares, but in those times he'd felt empower...

 He could hear them coming up the street, and this time he was determined not to miss it.  The profane word that was shouted grated on his ears. Someone must have been walking on the next block down. It wasn't the profanity that bothered Jeremy, but the abrasive desire to disturb the peace.  The dark gray extended cab pickup rumbled closer.  Somewhere down his street, an confused  neighbor was doubtless having an experience that Jeremy was familiar with.  He hadn't really been picked on as a child, not like some of his friends had been.  Those unfortunate enough to look or act different than the rest were ostracized severely sometimes, but Jeremy had long perfected the art of ignorance, or rather, ignoring.  He had been very short until the last year of high school, being the youngest in his class year after year had been a source of pride for him, but also a way of being different than the rest.  This was not always a good thing.  Anyti...

Smoke got in his eyes and he cursed himself, drawing the attention of his faithful pooch. He tossed aside the cigarette.  On cue, the faint jingle and clicking paws drew up close in the dark, and a wet nose nuzzled its way under his arm.   "Hey there Jasper, I'm not done yet.  I'm just an idiot, that's all." Smoking while hunched over his drawing was never a good idea.  He closed the sketchbook on his pen and set it aside, ruffling the golden brown scruff atop the mutt's sturdy shoulders.  Jasper was the best dog he'd ever met, hands down.  From the first moment he came home the pup had exhibited a cool demeanor that gave the impression that he was thinking. Indeed Jasper had proven a most intelligent animal.  They had made a strong connection early on, in the days of Kelly's business trips and before the kids.  Jeremy had always thought of Jasper as his first child.  Jasper clearly had a similar mindset.  It had only taken about a week ...