"She's young, and the world's wide open"

It's nothing special, just a few wooden planks nailed together, leaving gaping spaces inbetween that I guess you could call windows. A black netting hangs down infront of the spaces, usually held on by a few staples that have faught through the weather. The floor is a pattern of old bricks, that used to shine in different shades of red, but now are coated with the glue that once held a carpet down to cover their beauty. There are two rocking chairs with red cushions that are angled towads eachother. That's where we sit. In the far corner of the porch, perched infront of two windows. We listen to country songs that take us back to the many memories we've created together, and drink whatever is left in the fridge. Last time it was a combination of summer ale, divorce-day champaigne, a sweet red wine, and captain morgans rum. It's here where we just get to be free of all stressors in life. Here we are just two best friends, who have grown alongside eachother. Here we are young, with our whole lives ahead of us, and eachother beside us, no matter what more life could possibly throw our way. So here is where I lay, in a bed of blankets, listening to the rain drip down, and smelling the crisp cool air. I don't sit in the red rocking chair, because it's not appropriate. I only sit in that chair when she sits in the other. She's leaving for a month, to go to Australia and gain the experience of a lifetime. And as I sit here I think I realize that I will spend a lot of time out on this porch while she's gone, but not in the chair. I will sit on the floor, or on the loveseat, and remember our memories on my own. Missing her company, anxiously waiting for her to return.