At the end of our dead-end road, my neighbor and I call to each other, checking in, seeking news.
Their 5-year-old loves kindergarten, cut his own hair, lost his first tooth, and is learning to read.
My neighbor laughs at all this, holding a giant box of diapers. When they came down with a cold, he and his wife had to get a Covid test — negative! hurray! — and daycare has been screwed up as their provider had to get her own Covid test.
The old lilac bushes surrounding our houses turned a particularly pretty shade of gold this year, but those little leaves have fallen now. Across the cemetery from our two houses, one sugar maple determinedly holds its leaves, a shimmering reflective pool for sunlight in the afternoon.
And so life goes on.
The kindergartner jumps down the front porch steps, sees me, and points into his mouth. See!
From my distance, I nod and cheer. And so Saturday goes.
One thought on “Starting Stick Season”
All special milestones, especially the lost tooth, all with the beautiful tree as background. The sugar maple in my backyard is now the most incredible flame colors of orange and bronze and yellow, but there isn’t a second I can’t see a leaf drop! Beneath her, there is a golden carpet, that I know will be gone, with the rest of the show, in a few days.