Wistful Over Autumn

Did our parents know that in between their own worries and their hard work - they were creating sweet memories for us? I think about this as a parent. While I doggie-paddle and tap dance to keep the house running and keep a paycheck coming and keep Willa in clean clothes and eating healthy food - is she picking up on any of that distracted busy-ness during her everyday, magic times?

I hope that she is focusing more on the acorns, pine cones and quince we pick up during hikes, the taste of wild persimmons, the golden evening sun, her new pimped-out tricycle, dancing to the vinyl we put on the record player, giving her three goofy dogs a bath and reading The Big Orange Splot.

A long weekend with my parents in New York earlier this month hit all of my early autumn memories. We spent time during the rainy days going through old photo albums. The smell of oak tree leaves, half-melted Snickers from trick-or-treating bags and clean hair warm from the autumn sun all came back. I get terribly homesick for New York these days.

And so, as grown-ups, we must create our own moments and memories. New ones that can tie into our childhoods a bit, too. For me, it's the smell of baking apples and pumpkin innards. Watching the evening slip into night and wood stove fires. Pulling out the last harvests from the garden. And maybe throwing in a pint-sized Stormtrooper and a Princess Leia up-do for good measure.