About half the leaves are still on the trees and the other half are underfoot. The wind, which has been especially moody lately, toys with the fallen leaves, sending them into rising spirals and then brushing them into great heaps in all the low places – especially along the edges of the road, where I scuffle through them kicking leaves into the air as I used to do as a kid on my way home from school. The scent of fallen leaves is the scent of my childhood, and living again with my mother (even these 3,000 miles away from my Rockville, Maryland roots), I feel closer to my childhood self now than I have in a long time.
and bits of dry leaves
in her hair