Golden light streams through the window dappling in forgotten but familiar patterns across the wooden table. It is morning and I am lost in quiet reflection. An exquisitely woven spiderweb glints in the goldenness, its proprietor has grown big and fat over the summer. It waits patiently for breakfast to land while I enjoy a hot cup of strong coffee.
The gray squirrels run crazily all over the neighborhood; Up and down two large and arching chestnut trees, swiftly bounding through the grass looking for the perfect spots to bury their booty.
The deeply blue Stellar Jays swoop down, their wings extended. I hear them calling to each other which always seems so urgent to me. The Yoshino cherry tree in the front yard sports three yellow leaves among the green ones. It seems just yesterday that it was covered in delicate white blossoms. Although the calendar tells me that it is still summer, mother nature is speaking in whispered tones that Autumn is on its way.
Later after dinner my daughter and I stroll around the neighborhood. One more time on her “last day of freedom”, she calls it. Tomorrow is her first day of school. She will be a sophomore. She tells this to the friendly neighbor 3 blocks down while we admire the woman’s velvety red flowers.
My daughter pronounces the word sophomore is such a correct tone, her soft lilting voice emphasizing the “o” sound in the middle. The reddish highlights in her long brown hair shining and flowing in the wind. We walk along some more, stopping to admire the antics of the busy squirrels and petting a few cats.
A glossy black crow caws at us high atop a wooden telephone pole. It’s as if it has important news it wants to share. We laugh and move on. Our shadows walking ahead of us. She delights in the fact that she is now taller than me and we discuss our mutual pet peeve of the misuse of the word “your“. I marvel how much we are alike and how different the world is from when I was her age.
Oh my how time flies. On swift glossy black wings it does, always forging ahead and never looking back, unlike we silly humans who hold to the past too tightly. It is now dusk, our walk has finished and we have returned home. I silently say goodbye to summer. “Thanks for dropping by old friend, see you next year.” I mouth to myself and slowly close the front door.
“And that is how change happens. One gesture. One person. One moment at a time.”
― Libba Bray