I gaze out over the sea of pumpkins, an endless expanse of autumn. Families with small children excitedly leading the way navigate through row after row searching for the perfect addition to their holiday decor. Each pumpkin straightens up and puffs out in an attempt to appear flawless. Each turns to hide his imperfections from passersby while the small squash in the middle cry out in hopes of being noticed. The children cannot hear the pleas which reach my ears and break my heart. The pumpkins all try to glow a little brighter than their brothers. Each holds his breath waiting for the giddy squeal of some effervescent child as she cries, "Daddy, Daddy! This one!" The pumpkin is then scooped up into the child's little arms or onto the father's strong shoulder where it breaths a sigh of relief and snuggles into the safe embrace of someone who believes it is special. The others watch their brother leave and feel the wind a little more. A collective chill runs through them as the sun falls in the sky and time continues to pass.
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