At Large in Ballard: Still searching
Driving south on Shilshole Avenue I saw the unmistakable orange of a smashed pumpkin on the side of the road. Just like that it took me back ten years to when the pumpkin on our porch was stolen and reappeared as pulp in the street.
Ten years ago was the fall following the September 11th attacks and every day was an attempt to find some normalcy in our everyday lives, or at least a pretense for sake of the grade school carpool. The big orange pumpkin, left by our own street’s Great Pumpkin of a neighbor had been a comfort. Until I realized that someone had stepped onto our property to take the pumpkin and then smashed it.
This was the same time that anthrax had been sent through the mail and every white powder was suspicious. It was before the television stations fully resumed the safety of normal programming but had changed the banner beneath continuously breaking news to announce, “War on Afghanistan.” The sound of an airplane overhead was nerve-wracking even as Heavenly Blue morning glories bloomed and the last blackberries ripened in the sun.