Challenge! (Your $100 prize is on its way!)

The challenge was to write an essay that answered this prompt:

What’s your favorite way to spend time with your family?

Rebecca shared a peaceful account of the way her family has spent time together for generations. Enjoy her winning submission:

Porch Time: A Legacy of Love
By Rebecca Griffin

Some families travel the world together. Others plan elaborate vacations or chase big adventures. But my favorite way to spend time with my family happens here at home — on the porch.

Our porch isn’t fancy. Just a few chairs, the scent of rosemary from the flower beds, and a hummingbird feeder that’s always busy. But something special happens out there. It’s where time slows down, and honest conversations begin.

Usually, it starts with one of us stepping outside to take a breath or enjoy a breeze. Then another joins. And another. Before long, we’re all gathered, rocking, talking, laughing.

We don’t need an agenda. We talk about the day, dreams, worries, silly moments, and plans for tomorrow. And somehow, those talks always reach deeper.

It’s during these porch moments that I feel like a new person. The weight of the world lifts, and something inside me softens. My children seem to feel it, too. They open up in ways they don’t do indoors. They tell me about their dreams, thoughts, what’s happening — things I might not hear otherwise.

What’s even more meaningful is that I grew up doing the same thing as a child. My dad, mom, and sometimes my grandparents spent countless evenings talking on the porch. They taught me how to listen — not just with my ears but with my heart. That time with them shaped me, and now I see that pattern forming with my children. Although most of our children are grown up now, when they come to visit, we often gather on the porch, and it’s like they never left.

Even my husband, who has heart issues and has been recovering from cancer for quite a while now, finds comfort there. He may not always speak much, but his presence means everything. Sometimes he sits and listens, smiling at our chatter. And that’s enough.

We’ve laughed until our sides hurt, cried quietly in each other’s company, and sometimes rocked in silence, letting the breeze do the talking.

Porch time has become more than a habit — it’s a lifeline. It reminds me of what matters most: not the busyness of the world but the stillness of connection, not the perfection of family life but the presence we give each other in the small, ordinary moments.

I know some people chase mountain adventures or theme parks for family bonding; there’s nothing wrong with that. But me? I’ll take another quiet evening on the porch. I’ll take the conversations, the laughter, the dreams shared under the stars.

Because those simple moments — where we’re just ourselves, just together — are the ones I’ll remember forever.