Tell This Story

She sat on the porch with the birds fluttering overhead. The sunlight streaked through the trees and illuminated the the fog slowly lifting from the river. The vines that grew on the side of the house hosted a multitude of insects that always found their way inside. She sat on the porch and looked around for sign of her father who should return shortly. But the sun kept fading and the fog grew thicker. The air turned more humid and the birds settled down to rest. She sat on the porch and continued her sewing, waiting for her mother to return home for the day. The crickets began chirping their melodious voices calling out into the cooling air, signifying that another day has passed. The water trickled past the house, slowly carrying the algae and  lily pads along the surface. She sat on the porch and wasn't bothered by the cooling air. The wind chime hanging from the slopped roof of the porch was gently tinkling with every small ghost of wind. The trees creaked with the more forceful gusts and so did the house. The home was a wonderful little thing that sat on the edge of the river and was full of family trinkets. The fireplace was a little lopsided, and when a fire was lit the logs wanted to roll on the floor instead of stay in the hearth. She sat on the porch and debated getting a blanket, but decided against it because she was undisturbed by the cold. The window was open and the the floors danced with dust as the house shifted with the wind. The curtains fluttered in the breeze, old, worn, and sunbleached from years of morning light pouring through the windows. The porch rail was rotting away from the wear and tear of the river's rougher months. She sat on the porch and wondered if she should make supper, for her parents would surely be home soon. The dock swayed under the weight of a squirrel scampering across. The boards loosened and splashes into the water causing ripples in the glassy surface. She sat on the porch and watched the purple and pink light of the setting sun dance across the movement in the river. The door shifted on its hinges from years of no use, settling against the frame more than it already has. The dust stirred up again as a mouse ran across the floor of the house in search for food that has been long gone. She sat on the porch and stopped worrying for there was no point. She sat on the porch and awaited her parents return. She sat on the porch like she has done for countless hours, days, weeks, months, and years. She sat on the porch not bothered by the nature crawling in the house, but embracing it. She sat on the porch content to her sewing and a life of waiting.