“The Porchlight Agreement”. The porchlight at 213 Huckleberry Lane… | by Chelsea Judge | Bless Her Heart & Mine Too | Sep, 2025

The young man’s name was Simon. Evelyn Blake’s name, as it turned out, used to be Evelyn Choi — before she changed it sometime in the 80s and quietly tucked herself away from the world.

Simon, her late sister’s grandson, had tracked her down after reading an old postcard tucked into a family Bible. It mentioned a promise made under a porchlight, a debt never repaid, and a woman who once played jazz piano like it was a second language.

Simon came with questions.

Evelyn gave answers — but only after he cleaned her porch, weeded the side garden, and promised to play her a song she hadn’t heard since 1967.

He was stubborn. So was she.

But after a week, Evelyn opened up.

She told him about the house. The man she loved who went off to Vietnam and never came back. The family she let go of, thinking it was the only way to protect them. The piano in the living room covered by a quilt. And the porchlight that stayed on because once, long ago, someone said: “Leave the light on so I can find you, no matter how far I go.”

Simon stayed the month.

They sat on the porch together every evening, talking about music, family secrets, and what it meant to grow old with unfinished business.

And on the last night of September, Simon performed on her porch for half the block. He played her old jazz favorite, Misty, under the porchlight she finally agreed to turn off afterward.

The next morning, Evelyn woke up to a front yard full of sunflowers, planted by the neighbors.

Miss LouAnne watched from across the street, blinking back tears. “Darn porchlight had the last word after all.”