FINALLY. Fall has at last dawned in Central Texas.
Through the long sprint of summer, we hardly walked around our neighborhood. Out here, even in the evenings, when the sun was still stubbornly up in the sky at 8pm, the air stayed heavy and humid that walking was never pleasant.
But now the evenings are cooler, the air a little lighter, and walking feels good again.
Fall also means front yards full of pumpkins and ghosts. We don’t decorate for Halloween ourselves, but we do enjoy the lights and find entertainment in our neighbors’ displays as we “get our movement” for the day.
It’s almost a prequel to Christmas. Only instead of greens and reds, you get purples and oranges.
Of course, my son Andrew enjoys the decorations most of all. He’s especially fond of a certain character: a big purple spider that glows at night. Well, that is, if our neighbors remember to turn the lights on! Naturally, we call it the “Purple Spider.”
Andrew looks forward to visiting the Purple Spider every evening, along with a few other favorites. Like the haunted tree that looks (to me; Matthew thinks otherwise) more like a potato with sprawling stolons. We call that one the “Potato;” the tall “Green Guy,” a witch with a long plunging nose reading a grimoire. That seven-foot Green Guy talks, by the way, and Andrew is terrified of it. And then there’s Gemmy.
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Gemmy the Witch is a small inflatable with a pumpkin pincushion (not your gramma’s tomato). “Gemmy” isn’t her name exactly. It’s the name of the company that makes these Halloween decorations. Apparently, they have quite the following.
One windy night, Gemmy toppled over. Andrew, who firmly believes – or have been convinced 😉 – that being strong comes from eating eggs, declared that Gemmy “need eat eggs.” The next night, Gemmy stood tall again. Surely thanks to her breakfast, right?
But the following evening, Gemmy began strong and then, as the wind picked up, started to lean. In… slow… motion.
“Oh no,” I said. “Gemmy must not have finished her egg this morning!”
And no sooner had I made that comment than Gemmy began to rise again. Slowly… slowly… Matthew, Andrew, and I watched in suspense, silently cheering her on as she wobbled back upright.
When Gemmy finally stood tall, we burst into laughter! Half from relief, half from the sheer drama of her acrobatics. Did we want Gemmy to stand up because she deserved it, even if she hadn’t finished her eggs? Or did we just want her up, no matter what? I couldn’t tell. But as we walked home, we were all smiling from Gemmy’s little triumph.
I kept all these things, and pondered them in my heart.
How can a fallen inflatable that manages to stand back up be so hilarious to two adults? If we weren’t Andrew’s parents, we probably would’ve walked past Gemmy night after night without a second glance. I doubt I’d even bother looking up the character’s name!
But here we are. And I say that with an earnest amusement. Mono no aware.
Andrew, like all children, turns small, ordinary moments into something joyful. In times like this, I am reminded that this is what every loving parent feels. We find laughter and wonder in the everyday, and knowing that, even when it’s tiring, we wouldn’t have it any other way.
