Attending the graduation ceremony of a friend recently, the extended chosen family piled into a VRBO high in the North Carolina mountains. It was literally atop a luxury gated community, part of a system of homes in a rabbit warren of “get the best views” homes pushed into the sides of the mountain. And there was a golf course.

Four bedrooms and a communal gathering space upstairs and down gave each of the four couples privacy and community. The huge back porch looked toward the ridge on the other side of the valley. It was, in a word, picture perfect.

And it reminded me of another porch: my grandmother’s, out there in Vinton County, Ohio. My bet is whoever owned the house we were in and the house next door to it (iron gates on a timer, an irrigation system to aid the flowering trees, and a turret on the side of the colossal home) could have pooled their pocket change and bought Vinton County.

Grandma’s house didn’t have walls, just the studs, because they ran out of building money. Growing up, I thought it was the coolest place in the world because you could slip between rooms without using the door. And her porch, about the size of a king sized quilt, was the best star gazing territory in the world, because they didn’t use electric lights for the first eight or so years of my visits there. Couldn’t afford it.

Nanny’s porch looked across a pasture to distant mountains, and the lights of the small town nestled in the valley between just peeped over the grass, making it look like our own private sunset every evening.

We cooked skillet suppers on her wood stove, and the fact that took twice as long to heat anything up meant we got to talk more. And that Nanny could show me how to peel carrots correctly, in what order to put in the veggies and herbs she foraged or grew in her garden.

At the North Carolina B&B, Brandon’s father-in-law made us a skillet breakfast of venison from his hunting trips, coupled with fluffy biscuits from a can and eggs from our homestead. We went out to eat at a special celebrational place serving deluxe burgers and craft brews.

It was a delight to sit on that huge screened-in back porch in North Carolina, replete with a lovely meal, sipping gin fizzes and celebrating our friend Brandon’s success in school and enjoying each other’s company while counting shooting stars. It was a delight to sit as a cherished grandchild on my grandmother’s porch sipping lemonade, belly full from the skillet supper, slapping mosquitoes while counting shooting stars.

Maybe it’s who you’re with, maybe it’s what you look at, maybe it’s how you see. Joy is in a lot of places and while I don’t for a minute romanticize poverty, I also don’t discredit how happy people can be, sitting on the porch with the lights off for whatever reason, enjoying themselves, each other, and the night sky.