Her Leaves

I have not loved the changing of the season. I knew it meant it was just that much further away from us seeing her, and that upset me, but I knew it was something more than that.
This morning, I was pulling out to take Kate to preschool, and the leaves were being racked up in my front yard. At that moment, I knew. Those leaves were leaves that Kate, Ruby and I laid under during the hot summer. Those are the leaves that shaded us in our backyard planting while Ruby sat in her bouncy. Those are the leaves that she watched while laying on the couch. Those are the very leaves that we walked under when I took her outside to get her to stop fussing. It took a lot for me not to run over and explain just how precious those leaves were to me.
We have big, tall windows in our family room. We moved in this winter, and the trees were bare. I remember coming home from a 2 week stay in the hospital in the Spring, and the trees had tiny light green buds all over. It was symbolic for a lot of things for me. It seemed like every time we would return after a hospital stay, the leaves were the first thing we noticed. They were always greener, always bigger. Maybe since my baby was getting weaker, and sicker, perhaps that was a little hope for me. I don't know, but I have an attachment to those leaves!
At the park the other day, I had the same feeling. We spent a lot of time at that park. I sat on the bench, under the trees, nursing, and watching Kate play. The leaves will all fall. And new leaves will come. But those leaves have never watched us play. Those leaves have never seen those sparkly blue eyes. They have never created the shade that danced across her face. They aren't hers.
I know this must sound so strange. But, it is how I feel.
I feel the same way when I toss out food I bought when Rubes was with me at the grocery store. Or when I emptied the bottle of shampoo I used at the hospital. Even buying a new shirt, I feel like, Ruby never got to see this shirt! I guess these are all just signs that life moves on. The leaves change. Food goes bad. Who knew those things could be such a trigger?
I would be forever content rewinding to those hot summer days, laying under the trees with my girls.