Guys on the Porch

Each day when I come home from school, there are some older men on the porch of a certain house I pass playing a game, either checkers or cards, on a small table. Something about them warms my heart. I love that they're always there. I love that they're on the porch playing, not in a back room, not in an air conditioned kitchen somewhere. Most of all, though, I love how happy they always look. They're intent in their game in the few seconds I spend with them as I wait at the light or pass steadily by if it happens to be green, but they smile, they clap when one of them makes a great play, and the fellowship they share is tangible. It makes me want to pull over and see if they'd let me join them for a little while. It seems as though it would be a very worthwhile way to spend an afternoon.