Wednesday, October 10, 2012


In the garden beside my house, the sun beams down on the canopied swing, illuminating the earth in a cheerful glow. Bees hum amidst the surrounding flowers and tinkling sounds sing from the waterfall and dance through my ears. The water glistens as it meanders down the smooth stones and splashes into the pond of golden koi at the end. The petite, white rapids rise and fall like foam on ocean waves. Chickens bob and peck in their pen just beside me. They beg for bread crumbs with whirs and bocks. My daughter’s blonde hair dances in the chilly wind as I help her re-zip her boots. Running along the stream and pond she imitates the chickens’ cries and points with her tiny index finger to those fish she cannot touch. “Owange fish,” She tells me.

The mailman pulls up to the mailbox and distributes the packaged paper as he rocks out to Slash. I feel the corners of my mouth raise to a smile because the guitar music reminds me of trips to Salt Lake City with my husband. I wave to the mailman as he pulls away and sing my daughter’s name. She comes running, declaring her intentions to help me carry the heavy advertisements. We lie in the cool grass and point out colors in the clippings. She loves the meat section and informs me in her tiny voice that she sees her favorite color pink. I kiss her drool-streaked cheek and run my fingers through the white wisps atop her head. My face lifts to the sun, and I allow the warmth to sink into my skin. Its contrast to the brisk breeze comforts me somehow and reminds me that these fall days, like the childhood years of my daughter’s life, are precious.

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