Seasonal Change

The loss of my dad still hurts, especially when seasons change. 

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For those who have lost a loved one, the aching still seems to pulsate through the cracks left upon our hearts. 

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Seasonal change can breeze in bronzes of bereavement. It can fall with ambers of aches and molasses colored missing. 

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For me, this is true about Autumn. The leaves change once again, and my dad’s memory wafts o’er red-roofed wishing wells. The shallow water collects pennies of “wish you were here” under Birch trees. 

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Seasons and holidays blow in memories that patina the past. 

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Those who have lost a parent, we think upon childhood memoirs. Instances where we held our mom or dad’s hands, while strolling under amber stained glass etched with maple leaves. 

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I think upon harvest memories where the jack-o-lanterns flow, and the crockpot chili steams in bowls. 

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My dad walks behind my brother and I as we prance towards candy. In seasonal memory “trick-or-treats” bounce off lighted orange windows. 

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Seasonal change covers many in mustard and candy apple red leaves of remembrance.

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While playing in the mounds of leafy memories, we stop for a moment, pick up the past, then tears start to dew upon rusty reds.

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Seasonal change breezes in moments of bereavement once again, but it also shines with an Autumn sun of memorable warmth. 

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So, sit by the forest wishing wells where yellow flowers climb, and hear the echoes of the past. Feel the breezes through candy corn colored trees even if the memories well cleansing tears. 

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