Grandma’s porch light

Sometime after the First World War my grandparents finished building their new home. It wasn’t as fancy or as big as some of the houses around it but it had a nice screened porch. I imagine my grandfather, whom I never knew, proudly screwing in his first and only light bulb into the new porch fixture.

Over the years, like so many other porches, people would gather around and talk or just wave at the folks passing by. I believe that up to the age of 8, my biggest thrill in life was sleeping on my grandmother’s porch. Sometimes on a Saturday night lots of grownups would come over. It wasn’t long before someone would go around the corner to the Sweet Shop and get some homemade ice cream. That too was something of a thrill.

After many decades, many conversations and many coats of paint, one thing remained the same about the old porch. My grandfather’s same light bulb was still burning brightly. It greeted family and friends at Christmas and treated ghosts and goblins at Halloween. Through war and peace, the light bulb was always there. You are right to think “they don’t make things like they use to.’’

Nearly 90 years have come and gone since the rays of that bulb first lit up my grandparents’ faces. Gladly and remarkably, the same bulb now shines on my porch.

Sometimes as I swing back and forth in the hammock, I think about the beautiful piece of history shining above my head. No, the bulb will never speak but it does take me far down a trail that ends with many fine memories. I only ask that it shines just a little longer. One day, if it doesn’t, I believe I’ll bury it in the backyard like a good loyal pet and dream of eating half-melted ice cream on my grandmother’s porch.

Kevin Mc Cabe, Buxton, Cape Hatteras Electric

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