when i was young enough to still have friends in my neighborhood whose doors i could knock on whenever i wanted, my friend tara and i decided to have squirrel thanksgiving.
we found all of the acorns we could and piled them the sidewalk going from her mailbox to her front door, directly in the middle.
we stomped on them and crushed them all up, shoving the soft yellow inside together and removing as much of the external shell as we could.
after we had created a substantial mound, we hid near the bushes on the front porch and waited for the squirrels.
we waited and waited and waited
and they never came
but we still felt we had done a very noble thing
something very wonderful indeed
and we knew they would come eventually
the other day on the way to my bus stop i stepped on an acorn, crushing it until the bright mushy center was visible and smeared on the cement.
i realized that i tell myself this story every time the leaves start to change.
and remember gladly.
