you would think they were dollar bills, or notes from heaven, the way the kids collected them on the way home. one more brilliant than the next, rain dampened leaves, the pavement a quilt of color. a magic carpet.
they deposited their treasure on the kitchen table and dashed off to other caches. their wealth abounds in legos and markers.
now i clear the table for dinner. the leaves are somewhere between wet and dry. starting to curl. dull. i crush them into a ball, open the back door, toss them out into the rain.
no one will notice.
I love the way you always house a complete thought in a tiny scene. This was tangible to me, Sarah. (Probably because I have two avid nature collectors over here.) Passion can be so intense, even consistent, and yet so fleeting.
ReplyDeleteThanks Emily. And in a very vague way, I guess I was talking about writing, too.
DeleteAck! Well don't toss any crushed-up writing out into the rain just yet. *I'd* notice!
Deletei know, emily. thanks. i appreciate that, so much.
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