My name is Meridith, and yes—believe it or not—I still live with my ex-husband. His name is Darion. We’ve been divorced for two years, but due to financial realities, we continued to co-own the house. We split the space like roommates—separate rooms, separate routines, and not much more than polite exchanges in passing.
That was until one evening, I pulled into the driveway and noticed something different. The porch light was glowing bright green.
Not a subtle shade—but bold, unmistakable. It cast a strange hue across the house, and I sat in my car for a moment, puzzled. When I stepped inside, I asked him—maybe a bit sharper than I intended—“Why is the porch light green?”
Darion looked up and simply said, “It’s for my father.” Then he turned away.
I’d never met his father. I knew he’d served in the military and passed away before I came into Darion’s life, but he rarely spoke of him. Still, something about the light, and the way Darion said those words, stayed with me.
The next morning, I mentioned it to my best friend, Renata, over coffee. She pulled out her phone and said, “Green porch lights are often used to honor veterans. It’s a symbol of appreciation.”
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