These days I’ve been seeing the leaves fall. The strength has drained from them, so whenever any gust comes, they flutter down a few at a time, or many at a time. They bury each other, or else people come to pile them up into mass graves. Passersby carelessly crunch their skeleton forms underfoot.
No one remembers a leaf to begin with, and at their passing, no one regards them.
Yet each leaf did its part, as it occupied its own place on the branch’s stem.
The leaves of next spring, lacking the sense of anything beyond the present, will never know the ones they are replacing…
We are also blind to history; and though we study it, our assumptions are poor substitutes for reality.
…Then, do we even understand our own world, today? No… All we do is listen to story tellers, and see things from one side, or two sides… never from all sides.
On Thursday night, Hunan Garden asked me to work on Friday; and on Friday, they asked it again for today. Friday was slow for a while, and I only made 61.
Nobody was at our house till late at night, so any children who broke the trend of avoiding our house would have been disappointed. But for me, driving all over Foothill, Highland, Parley’s Way, Westminster, and Canyon Rim, it was a great experience. I think I haven’t seen so many kids out since… over a decade ago. I got a bit of candy; one lady even had a whole bag of taffy to spare. (I had stayed dressed up as a crossing guard since the afternoon shift.)
I’ll edit some thoughts in later.