The rake swept across my grass, pulling brown leaves off the
lawn and into little piles. I
moved about the yard, adding leaves and combining small leaf piles into larger
ones. I made a few large piles,
smelling the musty scent of decay, enjoying the cool breezes of a fall day, and
stopping so often to enjoy the colors.
The sky was a brilliant fall blue, the grass green, and the air
fresh.
Leaf raking is much easier without small children helping. I walk around the house to find a
container, and when I return the leaf pile is still intact. The work is done quickly. But, I remember when my children were
small, the fun they would have jumping in the leaf piles, burying each other
and jumping out. Sometimes I would
stop work and enjoy watching them, sometimes I would join them, but sometimes I
would sigh, chase them away or put them to work, focused on the task.
I look at my lawn.
Freshly raked, but still there are stray leaves scattered about. I go around raking up the missed
leaves, but for every leaf I catch, three more fall or are not caught by the
rake. I feel frustrated, but then
I stop. I look over the entire
yard. I can either see the scattering
of leaves on a yard, or a yard freshly raked, with a few leaves. The choice of focus is mine.
I relax, put
away the rake, pour a glass of lemonade and sit on the porch. I think I’ll call my grown children
today and say hello.
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