The Back Porch, the people that come and go.

I take my breaks on the back porch.

I've watched the seasons turn over from this porch - I watched early summer turn to late, steamy, fever-like August, and August turn to orange and red, and now I stare at bare trees and shiver. I used to gulp iced coffee & eat cold sandwiches; now it's hot hazelnut coffee and squash soup.

I have a nice view of the parking lot from my spot on the porch. Nothing much happens here, not much to look at. C tends to be below, grilling and talking to himself. Sometimes he'll notice I'm up there on the porch, and he'll talk to me about grilling things properly, or the Crazy People that crawl through this town, or his cats, or that the Wall Street Journal is located in CT, and isn't that something?

I can always hear the clanking of the dishes inside, the hum of the hustle and bustle that I am happily and finally sitting away from. I can see the stone wall of the church next door. Next Door.

Next Door is a beautiful stone church, except it is no longer a church from the glimpses I've caught of its inside. It's been made into a company headquarters of some sort. I like to try and imagine who the customers are that get to work in such a lovely building. Sometimes when I am on my break, I have an urge to tear off my work shirt and walk on in, just to catch a glimpse. I like to imagine the inside is just as beautiful/wondrous as the outside.

I don't know why I am so fascinated with a place. I suppose I have nothing better to do, and after the 10th cappuccino of the day, my mind needs to be elsewhere. And what better place than fantasizing about Next Door?

The grand architects, the well-dressed men in their shiny shoes and pressed shirts, their colognes and perfumes fusing my coffee air, ordering their food, collecting their change and continuing into their days - I often feel like a fly on the wall, watching the entire town of Acton come and go and live their lives. I like to wonder about the things they go off and do after they've gotten their egg sandwiches and their triple espressos. I like to wonder about people, especially the ones I see every day and know so well, yet know nothing about.