To the boy: I’m sorry you’re going to miss these colors but next year, it’s on


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I took a little solo walk today in Chickasaw Gardens near the little park and lake, where I go to entertain my greenest fantasies — the ones where I imagine what life would be like were I to be the kind of person who drove a Lexus into a two-car garage bordered by meticulously landscaped greenery tended by hired help.

They’re silly fantasies, little one, because we all know that even if I could afford a Lexus and a two-car garage, I would still drive a dented Nissan and park in the driveway because the garage would be full of crafting supplies and boxes of jeans I am delusional enough to believe I will be able to wear again someday.

I’m getting off topic here. The point is, the trees were showing out something big. And I figure you’ll miss the bulk of the pretty colors this year, but I want you to know that I am out here drinking them in for you, and looking forward to the days in a few years when you will jump into and completely destroy the pile of leaves I’ve worked so hard to rake up. Because you are going to be SO GROUNDED.