Recently, I was called home to New Iberia from my
spring/summer stay in Sewanee, Tennessee because my daughter Stephanie had to
undergo serious surgery. Following her discharge, I returned to Tennessee but
was called back to Louisiana because she wasn't recovering well. The past two weeks have been tense ones, but
Stephanie continues to improve daily. During the worst of part of her recovery,
I retreated to the glass porch on one side of my home and sat, sunning and
meditating "in the passive
life that goes on in the porch world," as I wrote in Porch Posts, and I felt
myself recovering enough moxy to deal with the problem of my daughter's
illness. I also re-read several essays from Porch Posts and decided to share one that I
wrote regarding the glass porch that both Janet and I call "the healing
porch." The essay is entitled "The Place of Oaxaca Breakfasts:"
"Of all the porches I've enjoyed, the sun porch in my
New Iberia, Louisiana home ranks first among favorites. It's a diminutive glass
and aluminum structure adjoining the dining room and has been, variously, a
breakfast room, a writing room, and a sitting room. Seasonally, a bed of
pansies or marigolds, bordered by giant elephant ears, grows alongside it, and
at one time a vigorous sago palm dominated the flower bed before we cut it down
because it was beginning to overtake the house.
"The New Iberia sun porch is a three-season porch,
unused in summer because the Louisiana heat makes it uninhabitable. Even with
an air conditioning vent that allows a small gust of cool air to enter and a
ceiling fan whirling overhead, it becomes a steam bath from May - early
October. However, it's a curative salon and is often used to heal physical and
emotional ills like seasonal affective disorder, insomnia, winter colds, and arthritic
pains. We diurnal creatures crave Apollo's bright face, and the glass porch
allows salutary rays to beam through on most days when my friends and I are
porch sitting.
"The porch has been a place of friendship and shared
meals, especially "Oaxaca breakfasts," a name given to hours of
intimate conversations, literary discussions, and the heightened consciousness
that two friends and I felt when visiting Oaxaca, Mexico several years ago. As
C.S. Lewis once wrote about friendship, the porch has the ambience of a
"luminous, tranquil...world," a place where friends "see the
same truth" while conversing, arguing, and amusing each other. It's a site
where equals meet and sit side by side, absorbed in mutual interests.
"As a healing spot, the porch has also been a haven for
friends who faced the grief of divorce, broken relationships, and family
deaths. Like its transparent glass walls, it suggests the fragility of
emotional crises.
"One spring, my son-in-law Brad painted the wrought
iron trim of a glass-topped table and matching chairs on the porch a brilliant
yellow hue, an evocative color that suggested happiness was always nearby for
those who come to sit and talk about their problems. When I had to give up the
table and chairs to furnish an apartment next door, my daughter Stephanie
replaced the dining set with a comfortable lounging chair. The chair she and
Brad brought in as a Christmas gift has soft gold cushions, and I believe she
chose this color reminiscent of the sun because she knew I wanted to keep the
aura of joy that surrounds this favored space."
If you enjoyed this essay, there are other "healing
spaces" mentioned in Porch Posts that may give you some insights
into the restorative powers of porch sitting. Porch Posts is available
online at Amazon in paperback and Kindle formats.
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