Leaves illuminate, sparkling in the sun, marigold and crimson flashes of brilliance before they turn brown and crumble as they are blown in the breeze. Dampness, the flavor of the fall air, hangs heavy from last nights rain. Gravel crunches under each footfall, drawing me closer to the car and the waiting bags of groceries.
Slipping handles of the bags over my fingers, like rings, until they tremble under the weight of the load, I begin the journey back to the house...crunch, crunch, crunch.
One handle pops loose, starting a chain reaction, dexterity failing before the awesome might of gravity. Cans pirouette and roll into the grass, boxes whumph as they flop on the sidewalk. My fingers clench into fists of frustration pulling at the hands of time, trying to turn back the clock on my decisions, while I stand among the mess I have created.
Why do I try to carry so much at once?
My calendar lays open before me and I wish this story was just about groceries. Why are we always adding more...like more is better? But we are obligated. No one else will do it, at least not right. They expect me to. It makes me feel important.
Until we are standing there with groceries scattered across the ground around our ankles.
There will always be someone to tell us what we should be doing. We get to decide what is most important, to us.
No doesn't just mean no, it means yes to something better.