Porch Chair

Grandpappy's house sat at the crossing of two dirt roads that didn't go much of anywhere. It was a small house, three little bedrooms, cracker box style my mother called it. Corn came up to all four corners of that crossroads except the one where the house stood, so that in July, sitting on his porch, you had the feeling of being on an island in a green sea that went clear to the edge of the…