It’s 3 days after Easter and your pumpkins are still on the front steps. Out there for all the world to see; the early morning walkers like me, kids on their way to school, the mailman on his daily rounds, the handyman mowing the lawn next door. Do you even notice them as you race off to work, buttoning your sweater as you skip down the stairs to your car? Or in the evening when you come home, tired from a long frustrating day, dragging yourself up to the comfort of cabernet?
Do you know they are rotting there, unobserved by you? Each day something in them sags a little more, softens slightly. Once they stood proud and firm, just waiting to be made into pie or carved into a scary face. But no, that never happened. There was no flour in the house for pie crust and anyway that day you were dieting. You couldn’t find your sharp knife and you didn’t know what to cut out anyway. Maybe tomorrow. They are melting now, a tiny bit more each day. They were full of possibilities. Now they are accusations.
So what can be done about them now? Well you could pick them up with gloves on in case they are mushy and carry them out to the yard waste can in the alley. But they might fall apart and then you’d have a real mess and you can’t seem to find those garbage bags you bought last month. You could give them to the neighbor to put into her compost pile. Maybe they would sprout and cover the pile in broad leaves by the middle of summer. But you don’t really know her and you don’t want to impose. Hell, you could throw them at that annoying motorcyclist who likes to go for rides at 1 in the morning and return at 3, revving his engine the whole time and waking everyone up. But no, you might get arrested and ruin your perfect record.
So here they sit, monuments to your indecision, your procrastination, your fear of never doing the right thing. You can just do nothing, let them melt under the summer sun to come. Until, maybe months from now they decompose to the point of you turning on the hose full force and blasting their remains under the nearby bushes. Of course the stain will last, never to be scrubbed clean even with bleach. But you can always put pots on the stains and plant flowers in them that will wither and die due to lack of attention. And next year you can start again with fresh pumpkins and good intentions.
So, what’s it going to be?