Falling Down

Swish. 

Crunch. 

Whistle. 

Crackle. 

Dig. 

Roast. 

Ah.

Deep breath. Can you feel it? Can you hear it? Can you see it?

The leaves are dying to fall off the trees. They fall to the ground and they swish. You step on them and they crunch. The wind whistles in the background; it's talking. It's getting cold out here. Can we turn the heat up? How about a fire in the fireplace? I like the sound it makes when the wood crackles. Can we rake the leaves into piles and then dig tunnels in the piles we make? That seems like so much fun. Can we get pumpkins and roast the seeds? Let's put some salt on them, maybe some garlic, or maybe some cinnamon; not both. They'll probably taste delicious.

Can I be a kid again? Can I shop in August for my Halloween costume? Can I go to the pumpkin farm and play in the corn maze and watch pig races? Can I make the special edition Funfetti Cupcakes and decorate them with canned orange icing? Can it just be so simple?

Not particularly. An important lesson I've learned is that life can't be that simple once you get older. It's time to face that fact, sweetheart. Mommy won't be there all of the time to hug you or wipe your tears, although she is nice to have sometimes-- okay, mostly a lot of the times.

When we fall, we have to pick ourselves back up. You don't have to worry, it'll be all right. My mom tells me to choose faith over worry, so I'm going to tell you that. It's some pretty good advice, but you don't have to take it if you don't want. My feelings won't be hurt, pinky swear.

But as we get all caught up in our lives, we have to stop for a minute, take a breath, and remember what makes us happy-- like being a little kid. Jump in that pile of leaves. You know you want to. Who cares if people stare? I don't. When I jump into the leaves, I get right back up and jump again, waiting for the next obstacle, the next adventure in the saga called life.