I thought it was the sound of the autumn leaves, somersaulting across the browning lawn.

But no, it was an echo from within my own head…a collision of some sort among all the blended memories that create the milkshake, which is now my life.

Reverberations of times and people gone by – joys, pleasures, ecstasy, dreams fulfilled and unfulfilled, true love, betrayal, lessons learned and ignored, hearts torn, bitter tears, lies, mistakes made, people gone.

Musky, sweet essence of rotting leaves under the aged maple tree -  you know, the one by the sunken-roofed garage – the one that tries so hard to shade the old house.

That dear old maple – looming eastward over the white house  seems to be curious.  Maybe at how it’s perception has changed after five decades when it’s branches were innocent and smaller. Long ago, when through it’s multi-leafed eyes and robins nests it saw the white house radiating with love, security, certainty, faith, hope and devotion.

My grandfather and me, hammock in the shade with black cherries in abundance in the 11 quart basket just within our reach – waiting patiently for Grams home-made lemonade to be served, on a hot July day.  Weed-less garden beds of snapdragons and dahlias flirted with pristine roses; drops of morning dew glistening on their velvet petals.  Church every Sunday dressed in our best, and tantalizing home made dinners and family visits.

I wonder what the old maple thinks – looking now through it’s broken branches, scantily leafed arms and rotting appendages.  The plaster falling from ceilings, the garage roof sunk like a muddy driveway – the weeds that have taken over just about everything.   Deck railings house families of wasps, eaves troughs missing or bent, fences gone – dogs toys half-chewed all over the once manicured grass.  I think the old maple may wonder about the love and certainty, faith and security, hope and devotion.  I think the old maple knows, that those things – those wonderful things, may not be part of the foundation of this old white house any longer………….although the foundation was once strong, it hasn’t been kept up………..and like a bad relationship, seems to be falling into a desperate, sad, painful condition and hardly worthy of repair.

I thought it was the sound of the autumn leaves, somersaulting across the browning lawn.

But no, it was only an echo.