It’s a special day.
You’ve dressed me up in my very best coat, a sweater, one long sleeved shirt, one white knit cap, one red woven glove (there were two when we left the house, but I forgot one on the bus). My boots are shiny and pink, the pride of my collection. Last show-and-tell I brought them to show, but Maddison brought her turtle and no one liked my boots more than the turtle, except for Patrick but I think he only told me that to make me feel better, and even though I think so, it still did. Patrick is like that.
Today we’re picking the very biggest pumpkin.
I’m sitting here beside it, waiting for you. I’m too small to carry it, and I know someday I’ll be big and strong, and I’ll sling this pumpkin into the back of my pickup truck (I’ll have my own car, no more buses that are late so the teachers yell like it’s my fault) and my daughter (or my son) will yell “Mommy, you can do ANYTHING!” like I used to before I found out you couldn’t. This pumpkin is orange, and squashed a little bit on the top and bottom so it isn’t quite round, and it’s so big I can’t even fit my arms around it. You told me to find the perfect one.
Now I’m waiting for you to come.
I saw you, just a little while ago. You were watching me, across the big wide open field. You’re wearing a brown jacket and your hands were held in front of your face. I know you saw me, I could almost feel our eyes meet except you were too far away for me to see your eyes. But then you turned away, so maybe it wasn’t you, or maybe you saw how big the pumpkin was, even from that far away, and you went to get someone to help us.
The people who work here wear big puffy blue jackets so you can see them from a really long way away. One of them keeps asking me when you’ll be back. She offers me her jacket, or a hot chocolate, but I’m waiting for you here. I’m sitting on the pumpkin now, because my legs are tired, and I want to save my energy so I can help you with the pumpkin. We’ll carry it home and I’ll draw pictures on its face, and you’ll cut them out exactly like I said even if that makes it lopsided, because I wanted it that way. You’re the best Mom, even if sometimes you’re late, and my hands are cold from waiting, and the sun is starting to go away.
The people in the blue jackets want me to go with them, but I won’t, Mom, don’t worry. Today is a special day, we’re picking the very biggest pumpkin, and we’re taking it home together, and when we carve a face on it together, it’ll be the happiest day of my life.
Image courtesy of Hayley Mechelle Bouchard. Her work can be found at Little Cat Photography, with more information about Hayley on Our Contributors page.
Awww.