Leaves
I took this picture in my father-in-law’s backyard last week. Outside the house, most of the leaves had fallen off the trees. They lay scattered across the yard, dense beneath the barren branches. The leaves that remained on the trees were no longer anonymous. They could not hide among the thousands that used to live around them. Instead, especially the ones with color, fluttered their survival like a little child waving good-bye. Eventually, they, too, will let loose and fall to the ground. The end of a season has come.
Inside the house, my wife and her brother sorted through the contents of the rooms. The death of their father, my father-in-law, has caused the end of a season as well. As items were pulled out of closets and drawers they lay scattered across the rooms like fallen leaves, each of a different color, each with a different memory. Many of the items will be discarded. Others will be held on to because of their usefulness or because of the memory the item represents of past seasons.
Season changes are hard. Like leaves falling from trees, connections are lost and healthy vibrant parts of our lives turn barren. My family will miss going to Leitchfield, Kentucky to visit Papaw. We will no longer have a place to stay when we go “home.” However, we will always have our memories, the important leaves we’ve collected and carefully pressed between the pages of our minds.
Comments
Share your thoughts...
