October

I don't think I'll ever forget watching my dad rake all of the leaves in the yard into huge piles. He would always wear a sweatshirt and jeans. I remember looking out my bedroom window to the hill behind my house at the heaps of leaves that my dad was making as he worked his way down the hill. They looked like huge bears sleeping in the dips of the hill. These were the most perfect days. It didn't matter that leaves got in your socks. It didn't matter if they found their way into your sweater. It didn't matter if they got tangled in your hair. 

I have that dark green sweatshirt that my dad used to wear as he worked. I smell leaves when I see it and I think of hugging my dad when I wear it.

How I wish that I could go back to one of those days. Back to when I was six, and I stood in a pile of leaves as if they were a swimming pool, thinking that I could dive into the pile and never find the bottom. I would say, "Hey, Dad. Watch this." Over and over and over and over and over. Then, "Wait, I wasn't ready. I messed up. Now, watch." Andy would be laughing next to me and tossing leaves up above us. My dad would bury himself in the leaves and it would be impossible to find him. When he would throw us into the piles, if the piles were thick enough. When he would tell us that the leaves were too wet to play in after a rainstorm, but we would do it anyway and immediately regret our decision when we found a wet leaf stuck to our hand or a slug on one of our faces. 

Or, maybe when I was ten and I knew that I was too big to dive into the leaves. But, I could still lay in them and throw them up into the air and watch them fall down. I would help rake and the wooden handle would form blisters on my hands. I would go across the street to my neighbor's house and roll down the hill into the mountain of leaves that spilled from the bottom of her yard, into the gutter, and then into the street. 

Instead of going back, I'll just stay in the present and go to pumpkin patches. I'll drive myself down winding, country roads. I'll turn my music off on my walk to class and listen to the leaves crunch under my shoes. I'll go on trips. I'll wear my dad's sweatshirt and feel even more thankful for the sweet gifts that autumn brings.