I have this very vivid memory... my my mom and I, walking on a fall day. I am reaching up and holding her hand. Her hand is warm and smooth and strong. She and I scuff our feet in the leaves, and the scent of them rises up to our nostrils. It is indescribable and unforgettable. Canada geese wing overhead, calling a haunting song. My cap toed tennis shoes kick the leaves high... the top leaves are dry and crisp, the lower ones are damp and fragrant. Mama says, "Crunch, crunch, crunch! Billy Goats Out to Lunch!" I find this a delightful thought... goats, out to LUNCH. Making CRUNCHING sounds. It is funny what thoughts latch into our memories and last and last.
To this day, when I see leaves on the ground I scuff when I walk, and I say under my breath, "crunch, crunch, crunch..."
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