He's been around T longer than I have. It was just the two of them when I moved in (with all my stuff). Porch Boy sat on the front step of T's Grandview apartment then, holding a small American flag. Smiling. Since then, he's moved with us three times. He sat on the broken concrete porch of our first (1800s era) house. One year, left out in the cold too long, his legs froze and broke off. Still, he continued to smile. (T cemented his legs back on the next spring.) Soon, we replaced his throne with a newly painted wooden porch.Then we moved to the (old) farmhouse where he sat on another concrete step. There he held a little fishing pole that T had created. One day, the dog knocked Porch Boy over and his head broke off at the neck. (T cemented it back on.)
He moved with us again a few years later. He sat on the back stoop, overseeing the menagerie of stone angels, bunnies and statues in the garden. As winter approached that first year, I remembered to put him (and the other stone critters) away in the garage so as to avoid the potential for more broken body parts due to the lethal combination of frozen-concrete-against-frozen-concrete. And there he stayed (forgotten) for a couple of years.
I came home from work one night this week and there he was on the porch again, sitting on the old church bench. Holding a mini-pumpkin. Smiling. I knew the two "old boys" had found each other again.
