The air was crisp and chilly. The pathways were covered in brown leaves that crunched under my feet. I could finally feel it. Fall was here.
It was the first day of November. I was changing Abe’s diaper when the sound of the leaf blower startled him. His eyes widened. He looked curiously in the direction of the loud noise.
“What’s that?” I asked.
“It’s a leaf blower.” I answered. “They’re blowing the leaves away, but I don’t know where they’re taking them.”
Where will the fallen leaves go? I wondered. What will they become?
Abe lied on his back in the pack and play playing with the toys hanging above him. His favorite is the butterfly. Often, he’ll manage to detach it and stick it in his mouth.
I went to the bathroom. When I returned to pick him up, his hand was fastened around the butterfly.
I told him, “I can’t take you with me if you’re still holding on.”
I opened his hand with my fingers and carried him away.
I had a moment to write while Abe slept. I noticed a squirrel on the patio table nibbling on one of our pumpkins. I waited a moment and debated whether or not I should cast it away. Before I could make a decision, it moved on.
The days just keep passing by. I try to hold on to leaves and butterflies but it’s impossible. The growing happens so quickly with them.
I wondered, am I growing too?
When I look in the mirror I see gray hairs, age lines, and brown spots. But how am I inside? There’s no door or wall to measure up against.
I keep trying to grow along with each change of season. But, there’s a part of me that longs to stop time. Like Abe and his butterfly, I know – they can’t take me with them if I keep holding on.