"Put your jacket's on," I yell at the slamming door, drying my hands off on a towel before stepping onto the porch. As usual, they ignore me, too busy running to jump into the pile of leaves my son had finally managed to rake into a pile.
I smile as he scolds them, not that they can take him seriously, because he wears a smile to, watching his younger sisters playing among the golden yellow and amber colored leaves without a care in the world.
"Come play with us," they beg, throwing armfuls of leaves upon him, but at twenty, he feels as if he is too old to join in childhood games, as if forgotten are the years of destroyed leaf piles. But who can resist the begging of two adorable little girls, and before long the stress on his face fades away, replaced with the smile of youth as he runs through the leaves, chasing his sisters until amber fills the sky.
I go inside for a bit, returning with mugs of hot chocolate, for their is a coolness in the air. I suspect that in a few days they'll all have colds, but at the moment, I'm happy to see smiles on their young faces, hear them laughing as they tease, the way young ones too.
Fall is a season of change, and I see that in my children to. They aren't as young as they were last year, yet despite the change, its brings out their innocence, just as it brings about the changing of leaves on the tree overhead. Just as the year grows older, so do they, and with it, they bring a new sort of beauty, different than the younger, greener children of spring.
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