Not sure what it is about walking through the piles of raiment the trees left so carelessly in heaps on the ground (not too unlike my boys socks that litter our small apartment) that pulls my mouth into a stupid sideways grin. Dirty wadded socks certainly don’t have the same magic.
But I don’t judge it. I feel the weight of the leaves against my legs as I drag my feet on the ground, not caring a titch about the extra wear and tear on the soles of my shoes. It’s not like I have diamonds on the bottoms of them… The crisp sounds of the leaves dancing closely together create a symphony that lights up my eyes, my senses. There’s that tugging of that stupid sideways grin again.
Cars with people pretending to be adults give wide berth to the girl pretending to be an adult pretending to be a child, likely passing a host of judgments as they responsibly drive up the hill, on their way to their jobs, their lives, their duties and responsibilities.
But leaves must be crunched. This is my only responsibility at this moment. I have no time for verdicts of unseen internal judges and juries. These are my 10 minutes. My precious 10 minutes I carved out of my day especially for this. My 10 minutes to let go of the struggle, the worry, the stress, the-holy-crap-I-can’t-breathe parts of my pretending to be an adult.
So I wade through leaves like my life depends on it. The bright rays of the sun–an endangered species in these parts–accompany me in this solemn, silly act contributing a certain glistening sparkle and magic to the moment.