Autumn

Fall was my Dad's favorite time of year. I don't care so much for autumn because I know that soon it will be winter. While it may seem unfair, fall has never been my favorite season, only because of what follows it. It does have its own beauty which I appreciate. Driving down tree-lined streets with their gold and red leaves is breath taking. Tonight in the park I saw a mom piling leaves in a pile so that her little boy could jump into it, much to his delight. Autumn for me brings a vision of my dad raking leaves, stopping to lean on his rake and telling me how this is his favorite season. He enjoyed the change in weather from the hot days of summer, and liked the crisp, clean air. My dad died in fall. The day of his funeral, my older sister and I commented to each other how fitting it was that this was the season he died in. As we buried him, red and gold leaves flew, and the air was crisp and clean. Over the years since he passed away, autumn is the time of year I feel closest to Dad and to his memories. He is there with me when I rake, clean flower beds and bring in the garden. Enjoying the different season - for different reasons . . . it's a good thing!