October means leaf-peeping in New England. It was a clear-blue, sunny Saturday and my wife and I decided to take a drive and enjoy the foliage.
As we followed the winding roads through the sun-dappled countryside, we zipped by a beautiful old saltbox-style house that caught out attention. Behind an old stone wall, the salt-box sat on a green lawn strewn with bright autumn leaves. Smoke curled from the chimney. The home looked like it was recently renovated and the homeowners had done a fantastic job. The thought of the renovation brought to mind all the carpenters and craftspeople who worked on the home and how proud they must be of their work.
My stream of consciousness then took me to the next thought: Old school, carpenter work boots with the thick, white soft tread. I had been coveting a pair of those boots since childhood but reluctant to spend the money- especially since I’m not a carpenter.
And that made me think of my dearly departed older sister who I looked up to as a kid for all things cool. Back in the day, my sister always referred to those boots as “shit-kickers.”
And that made me think of my father. Sitting alone at the bedside of that very same sister. She was in a coma and dying from an aneurysm. It was hard to believe it has been ten years. Family had come to the hospital to support us. I was quietly talking with my cousins when I saw my father sitting at my sister’s bed side. He was sitting in a chair with his back to us. His feet together. His hands on his lap. He might have been praying. He might have been thinking of a life of trials and struggle. And now the death of his dear child. His daughter.
I thought of all of that in an instant before I refocused on driving.
Then we zipped by the red salt-box house, on that beautiful day, me with my wonderful wife, and the autumn leaves falling and swirling behind our passing car.
copyright 2019 Christopher Donahue