October draws to a close, and even if there isn’t quite a snap in the Sandy Eggo air, there is still the sense of finality, that summer is well and truly over, that the time has come for some sort of harvest. It can even be a bit cold in the morning – I wore long pants this morning. I did.
In the back yard, the teenagers clean out pumpkins bought expressly for the purpose of seasonal decoration. “Respect” plays on the iPod adapter system, and they smile and chat amongst themselves in a casual way, pleased at the task at hand, deeply pleased with each other’s company, feeling a part of the societal rhythm, a part of something larger than themselves, extending backwards into the dim recesses of national history, another path forward glimmering the way into an unseen future. A future which holds many more such rituals, strands that connect us all one to another in a small but non-trivial and contributive way. These rituals are a part of who we are.
Seen like this, the teenagers themselves seem almost human.
I know. It’s scary.