After the great pumpkin caper that was Sunday at Bengtson’s Pumpkin Farm, I tried to convince Joe to just drop me off at the Green line or the Harlem bus stop so I could get myself home. But neither he nor Jacinda were trying to hear it, so they drove me home anyway.
We ended up having dinner together at the Melrose Diner, where Little H amused herself by finding all the corn kernels from the corn box that found their way into her jacket, pouring them onto a bread plate, and then occasionally pouring a few into her mother’s hand before insisting Jacinda drop them back onto the plate.
But before that, we had to drop off their pumpkins at the new house. Yes, Jacinda and Joe and Doolittle the dog and Little H are moving very soon, just to the next suburb over. They’d bought a large gourd and a pumpkin for the stoop of the new house, and did I mind stopping for a minute? Of course I didn’t. They were driving me home, for pete’s sake, and I wanted to look at the new abode.
The new house is lovely. More space for all, including the pumpkins which looked oh so cozy on the steps. Little H took my hand and tugged me along as she gave me a tour of the house. We marveled at the basement, the kitchen, freshly painted walls, and a screened-in back porch. There were no lights to show off the big backyard, but we walked in slow circles on the front lawn, looked at the Halloween lights on the neighbors’ house across the street.
While Joe checked inside to make sure they left just enough lights on before we took off, Little H skipped down the block and Jacinda and I followed her. I don’t remember what Jacinda and I talked about (who can remember after knowing each other for 15 years?), but I believe it was her idea to race Little H back up the block. Little H took off while Jacinda and I jogged behind her, stopping only when Joe met us on the sidewalk and caught his leaping daughter in his arms.