On the ride home from daycare, Elena started chattering about the leaves on trees falling off and turning yellow. I initially thought she was talking about something she had learned in discussing the seasons, and agreed with her about the leaves changing color, and *then* falling off. She corrected me, saying that if you pull the leaves off the tree, they will then change color.
"Yes," I replied. "When we pull the leaves off the trees, they die, and change color."
"Yeah," she nodded, "And someday you will die, too."
"Um, yes. Is that something that you think about a lot?"
Sad little, "Mmm-hmm."
"Do you want to talk about it?"
*Pause.*
"I ate all my peppers!" Super happy voice!
I love that when things get rough, my child turns to food. Me, too, little one. Me, too.
Márgarét, are you gríeving
ReplyDeleteOver Goldengrove unleaving?
Leáves, líke the things of man, you
With your fresh thoughts care for, can you?
Ah! ás the heart grows older
It will come to such sights colder
By and by, nor spare a sigh
Though worlds of wanwood leafmeal lie;
And yet you wíll weep and know why.
Now no matter, child, the name:
Sórrow's spríngs áre the same.
Nor mouth had, no nor mind, expressed
What heart heard of, ghost guessed:
It ís the blight man was born for,
It is Margaret you mourn for.
Gerard Manley Hopkins