The Best of the Worst
It’s funny that when I look back on my childhood, I remember very little on my own. But, the simple waft of a freshly baked apple donut or the seductively simmering smell of apple cider creates short, film like flashes of memories in my mind. When a leaf crunches beneath my converse, I smile. And when I lay on the front lawn covered in a blanket of red, yellow and brown leaves, I feel like I am seven years old again. It’s a good feeling. I think it’s the best feeling of them all.
I’m 18 now. The tree’s are just now changing and people are bundled up in light jackets and sweatshirts. A dad is raking leaves into giant piles while his wife is hanging a fabric ghost from the flower hanger. The kids are making dad’s work harder, throwing leaves back and forth. It makes me smile, but inside, I hurt. They are so young. They know nothing about wars or hate. Right now, they are blissfully happy.
One day they’ll be like the rest of us, though. I think that’s the worst feeling of them all.