I have lived alone for 1 year now: 52 weeks: 365 days. The highlight of my life is to see my children. They grew a gorgeous garden this year, and shared with me their harvest: sweet corn; swiss chard; cucumbers. And a pumpkin. Their front porch is adorned with two dozen perfect orange pumpkins. Hyrum and Hannah offered me one, perfectly round, with a spiraling stem. The pumpkin reminded me of them each night when I came home from work. It looked so cute sitting by the front door, until one evening I found it smashed on the rocks.
SMASHED
To Whoever
smashed my pumpkin:
I wondered
how long
my pumpkin would survive
you.
Not long.
My little daughter
raised this pumpkin
in her garden.
I love her.
I do not get to see her much.
I miss her.
So, I set by my door
her pumpkin, my pumpkin.
It reminded me of her.
I dared to hope
you would let it be.
But you smashed
my little girl’s
pumpkin.
(PS. She gave me another yesterday. One can hope.)