An UnEven Fall

Jenny Harrington
3 min readOct 19, 2019

Usually, the equal light, half day, half night, falls on Ewan‘s birthday
September 22nd

It’s odd — not this year

Not this second sepia season of shawls and sipping tea without him

A season of soccer and sneakingly early sunsets

When school sets in and maple trees drop their helicopter seeds as they rub their tired eyes and fall to sleep

It’s odd — my son is not here

To scoop up tawny leaves baked by the last of sun’s amber light

When the crunch underfoot is muted by a child’s laughter

Leaves billow up into the air and mist down in slow motion, like dried, paper feathers

They come to rest on his head — sticks stuck in his golden, shaggy hair

Hair the color of straw

He smells of kiln dried earth — fresh and organic

A balanced, wholesome aroma

Half lighten and lively like baby shampoo, half composting as rain-soaked, decaying, sweet soil



Jenny Harrington

Author, researcher, mother living on an island near Seattle. Now, notably, an international bunny smuggler. Find her struggles and snuggles at