The Porch

Waving to slow cruising boats had become a hobby for us. A ritual around 7 o’clock any night the sun was illuminating the darkening sky with its fluorescent colors. Beth and I would come out from cleaning the dishes and sit on our camp porch and admire the lake. Sitting in our own rocking chairs, sharing a pot of decaffeinated coffee and homemade cookies, we’d even sometimes softly play Frank Sinatra records and dance. No one could see us, but frankly we didn’t care if they did.

Beth and I met as young, energetic teenagers the summer after we graduated from separate high schools. She had long blonde hair and hazel eyes and I couldn’t keep my mind off her. We both went off to college, so the feelings I had were put on hold. Finally, after I got my Masters’ Degree in teaching and she finished up Nursing School, we began dating and soon after got married.

Fast forward.

We both are retired, our kids have kids, and Beth and I decided to reside in our camp in the small hamlet of Amber year-round. Watching the seasons unfold on Talon Lake from the porch is as much as a hobby as looking at the passing boats in the summertime. The structure itself is 40 feet long and 7 feet wide. It has no screen to protect us from blood thirsty mosquitos or winter snow. Each winter we install storm windows, so Beth and I can still enjoy the view or dance away to Frank Sinatra’s “Summer Wind”.

Life was a blessing. Yes, there were hardships along the way, but in hindsight, Beth and I created our own little slice of perfection. That was until one late summer day.

I woke up in the middle of the night with severe stomach pain. I initially didn’t think too much of it, but as the day went on, so did the pain. I began getting heartburn and found myself having no appetite. The next morning Beth drove me to the clinic in town to get a professional opinion because frankly we had no idea what was going on. She looked up in her old nursing books the symptoms. The result was it could be stomach cancer. I scoffed at that idea and was convinced I under cooked some fish on the grill.

The clinic visit didn’t last too long. The head physician sent me by ambulance to Chester Ridge Medical Center, an hour-long drive whether your vehicle had sirens or not, for further testing. The next day, as I was sitting in the common room watching television, the doctor called. My results were in and frankly they shocked both of us. Beth had been right. I had Stage 4 Stomach Cancer. I never thought I would get any type of cancer. There was no history of it running through my family tree, but poof, there it was before me. Tumors the size of golf balls taking shelter inside my stomach.

Fast Forward again.

Beth and I are sitting on the porch, drinking decaffeinated coffee, and watching the sunset. Frank Sinatra is softly playing from inside the common room. Boats slowly drive by and wave.

My hair hasn’t grown back yet. My weight is something to be desired. My energy level is almost non-existent. I had surgery to try and defeat the cancer, but it didn’t work. We tried extensive chemotherapy treatments, but it didn’t work. On one of the final appointments, I was told the cancer was spreading and there was nothing left to do. I was deemed terminally ill. At first Beth and I were in denial. How could this happen? The doctors were wrong. How could they just stop giving treatment?

After some time, we sat back and realized there was nothing else left to do. The Doctors did more than enough to try and save my life. Beth decided to be my caretaker once I got worse. I made some phone calls to old friends and other family members. They weren’t goodbye conversations, just reminiscing on the good times we all had with each other.

Looking out at Talon Lake, the water was calm and the sunset was producing its vibrant orange, purple, and yellow colors. The Autumn leaves were at their peak, while the Chick-A-Dees sang to each other before bed.

“Beth, how about we dance?” I finally said after a long silence.

“Do you have the strength?” She asked in reply.

We hadn’t danced since my surgery and frankly I didn’t have the energy, but as the time on the porch slowly dwindled away, I needed to try.

“Well we will find out, won’t we?”

We both stood up. I went to the record player and turned up Frank Sinatra just as “Summer Wind” began to play. Grabbing her hands, I pulled her in close and we slowly began to sway back and forth. I could feel Beth beginning to tear up and I kissed her on the forehead.

The summer winds had come and gone, but the memories of the porch could never be forgotten.