The boys bound ahead down the steep path, and the dog pulls at her leash. My footing, accustomed to sidewalks, remains unsure. At the river bank in the valley, we find no escape from the highway noise spanning the bridge overhead. We watch my youngest hop from rock to rock over the water. Too soon, he asks to turn back. He waits impatiently under a tree, growing ever taller. I nod in his direction, just as a breeze picks up. A ticker tape of leaves in bronze and gold flutters down over his outstretched arms before gravity finishes its work.
Sarah Crawford lives in Maryland with her husband and two sons, with whom she takes walks in the woods from time to time.