2021 theme: RUPTURE

SEASONS CHANGE Genalea Barker The slam of the storm door startled me. “Mom?” No response. I set down the laundry basket, heading for the back of the house. “Mom?” Nothing, except an ominous smell wafting through the screen.

“No!” A steady stream of profanities left my lips as I raced for the garden hose, my heart racing. Mom stood calmly at the fence, matchbox in hand, completely oblivious to all but the pile of burning leaves in front of her. Not without struggle, I heaved the running hose across the lawn and began waving the water in an erratic pattern over the lames. Heavy smoke rose as the leaves hissed.

“I’m going outside to walk along the fence,” she’d told me thirty minutes before. “I need a little exercise.”

“Wonderful idea, Mom.” The large back yard was lined entirely with privacy fence, the gate far too inicky and heavy for her to open alone. She couldn’t escape, she couldn’t engage any neighbors in conversation, it was a perfect solo occupation for her, and one she did rather frequently.

I’m going to walk the back fence; it’ll be good for me, had apparently turned into, I’m going to rake up a pile of dry leaves and set them on ire. Thank God I’d heard the door slam.

Mother began shouting at me while I doused the lames, my eyes burning from the smoke. “I don’t know why you have to ruin everything I try to do! I don’t know why you can’t ever let me have an idea!”

I ofered no response, focused solely on dampening the blackened ground so nothing could rekindle later. I thought back to that morning’s positive airmation from my daily calendar. I breathe in the calm; I release the tension.

Appropriate.

Taking in the smoky air felt strangely soothing. I smelled my childhood.

My little brother Cole and I camping under the stars with Dad, listening with fascination as he told stories and pointed out every constellation. I smelled a time when my own children were little, roasting marshmallows and making s’mores in the irepit on summer nights.

I breathed out my anger, allowing space for those sweeter memories to 82