The crackle of fallen leaves conjures up memories of past things. Like Persephone, and so many other children of reflective thinking, preparing to make that slow march to the start of winter, thinking back on yet another start of the season of paper, paste, pencils, and paints quickens my step and heart. It is much too cold here now to do anything but walk and think. I'm always the one who can hardly wait for the school year to begin, but the past keeps jerking me back by the scruff of the neck into the present. This writing assignment started when my son's pre-school teachers asked my wife and me to prepare a list of three goals to enhance his experiences for the year: What are your goals for Eian? Like any parent I sometimes have a hard time not thinking about where I now stand, separating out my own experiences, while trying to make informed decisions for a very verbal five-year old. I thought about my own milestones at that age and what I would have wanted for me, not just Eian, as fall skipped forward to the secular ritual that is the return of school. I also thought about what goals he could gather before himself, like a well loved place-setting. Maybe I could consult him. But asking a pre-schooler to set goals is like asking the Runes for a right answer. No books, no bags, or three-ring binders could materially offer him the comfort that discernment, inclusion, and grace can provide. These are my prayers/hopes for him, augured from the seasons.

Maybe my goals for all children should be rooted to doable tasks, not these lofty concepts. Yet, all I have to do is remember the clarity that comes with the cold, the sound of the leaves underfoot, and my two children, where the only goal is the press of palms together.

A writer, actor, and high school educator, Brian Thomas lives in Portland, Oregon with his wife and children. He is also the founder of A Child's Book.com http://www.achildsbook.com.

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