Autumn is my Proust’s cup of tea, recollecting for me all those childhood afternoons I walked home from elementary school, scuffing through knee-piles of fallen leaves, as they crumbled and broke, releasing their rich humusy scent.
Each morning, my 12-year-old hoists her backpack and walks across the dewy lawn, leaping over the chain link and heading down the cemetery hill. Sometimes she looks back over her shoulder to see if I’m watching; sometimes she disappears into her day without a look back, unconsciously and imaginatively creating her own teacup of memories.
While the landscape shines postcard-pretty, behind our back porch the box elders shake loose their leaves, and up-close we’re beginning to see what was hidden under the summer’s greenery. My 12-year-old fantasizes about a zip line from the porch deep into the ravine. Her eyes sparkle as she imagines flying down that ravine, deep into the heart of a place not yet well-known.
this piercing cold—
in the bedroom, I have stepped
on my dead wife’s comb
– Ueda
This was a beautiful piece of writing
Thank you!
This perfectly captures what being a mother is like!
Thank you! Isn’t it interesting how, as parents, we re-imagine or relive pieces of our own childhoods?
I want that zipline too!! 🙂
I’m hoping my brother will take the reins on this one. 🙂 I haven’t quite envisioned it myself.