Yesterday was a glorious autumn day, and I enjoyed playing in the leaves with my family. My three-year-old daughter and I went outside into the warm afternoon sun and made our way to a maple tree that had dropped most of its leaves. The leaves were muted yellows and tans, rather small, light and dry, easily crumbled.

I raked the leaves into a large pile and my daughter was thrilled to run and jump into it and to pile the leaves onto her dad and to be buried herself in a light layer. I can still hear her voice filled with joy: “Daddy, do it again!”… “Daddy, now you lie down!”

She especially enjoyed throwing the leaves at me. I threw them at her and up into the air too, a natural confetti blown by the wind. At some point my wife joined us and we all threw leaves at each other.

And I made an effort to remember. As my daughter ran to the leaf pile in joy, ready to jump into it, I made sure to count my blessings, to try to fix in my mind this time when she was so small. Because she will change, of course, because she has changed, because everybody insists on reminding me of that constant change when I know that sad but necessary fact already.

And so I took a mental snapshot of that time, and I write it down and place it here now, when the day - only one day later - has already changed to a blustery winter day and I sit here, content and alone.

This entry was posted on Monday, November 5th, 2007 at 3:27 pm and is filed under Family, Minnesota.