It’s interesting how a simple task will bring back a tumbling of memories and love by touching a tiny piece of tenderness tucked down deep. Like sweeping the porch. Every time I sweep a porch at our house – we have two and one of them extends down the entire length of the house – I think of Mama and her mama before her. They loved to sweep. I think especially of Mama whenever I tidy the porch of the house that she and Daddy called “home” for most of their lives. Mama swept her porches every other day or so. In the last few years of her life, she would, on rare occasion, say, “Ronda, before you leave, grab the broom and sweep the porch off.”