Caked in Color

Heavy leaves fall from a branch's cradle, crashing down to the concrete path in front of me. My eyes move down, watching the little leaf defy gravity as it floats through fall air. I want to jump up and catch the falling leaves, want to roll around in the piles, soaking my clothes with the smell of barn red and burnt orange. I still can't adequately describe that smell, the smell that makes my lips curve into a simple smile, thoughts of past autumns floating down from the trees into my head. Thoughts of diving into the slip-and-slide of mud to find myself caked in color, leaves stuffing my ears and falling out my shorts. Thoughts of stabbing hard skin of pumpkins, following the stencil my mom got from a website to carve the perfect werewolf. Thoughts of home, of watching Spongebob Squarepants with my sister because it was getting too cold to do anything outside, of watching my dog run around in the back as he tried to escape the leaf rakes, of the warmth of chocolate chips oozing out the sides of newly baked cookies. Then I watched the leaf touch the ground, kissing grey earth. As I walked by, a cool breeze kicked up the tiny leaf, twisting it around and around until it escaped my view.