The Great Pumpkin
It wasn’t there. It wasn’t in the towering emerald cornstalks we got lost in while eating kettle corn and sipping on apple cider. It wasn’t in the dark brown patch with dull orange pumpkins buried in the mud from a recent rain. It wasn’t in your hand around my waist as steam from the pumpkin gnocchi boiling on the stove made our faces glow in the soft light coming in from the sunset. It wasn’t in my giggles as we sunk into your navy fleece blanket to watch your favorite Charlie Brown movie. And as much as we prayed before my eyes finally closed on your chest, it wasn’t in the pumpkin spice lattes we got on our way to Miami the next morning.
I am still searching. I hope you find yours, I hope I find mine. And if we find it in each other, I hope we have the strength to let go of our pride and pick each other out of the patch.