One theme of this space has been everyone has had a connection to fatherhood. The experience runs from total unawareness to total commitment. But, this father’s path and all the others circle back to one point. They start together and end somewhere. And all paths lead home.
Outside, the light fades. Leaf piles grow. The bare branches give way to views not seen for a year. The few leaves clinging to home dangle in the breeze. Another gives way and floats like a butterfly on its earthbound flight…
Cycles and circles in days or years connect to home in time and space. The rhythm begs the question of what is home, what is held in me through these revolutions? The circle can bring the same question over and over. Nature is that way and requires an answer, a purposeful effort to make sense of the image that speaks of roots, beginnings, evolution, and balance.
Outside our youngest son helps his mother pull another load of autumn to the road. The ritual is old and shows in the circles of light that shine through the airborne and well-worn tarp. He does not see me but I get a glimpse of a playful ritual that is theirs alone.
Regardless of where you are and who you are along the path, you have a connection to fatherhood. The meaning speaks to you all day long, is part of the construction of your day to day experience.
He, like his older brother, is a man now. Leaves and yards are work—things to be kept up. Once leaf piles broke the falls of boys playing and trying to defy gravity. Now, the piles are quiet, a still life waiting for their fate.
The fullness of this living and experiencing has a timeless link to generations past and those to come. In this sense, there is no here or there. The path is everywhere. And all paths lead home, where you have been all along.