But 23 bags later, a mystery. Friday, the bags surrounded our already full trash cans (no trash pick up on Thanksgiving Day). No problem. Trash Day would arrive on Monday and all would be well. Then Saturday I glanced out the breakfast room window. I couldn’t place it at first. The trash spot in the alley looked so—normal. Trash cans filled with black bags, waiting to be carried away. Nothing else.
No 23 bags of leaves. Vanished. Gone.
Did someone take them? They must have. But we didn’t notice unusual noise in the alley at any time—and it would take a little while to load 23 bags. How did they know they all held leaves? Did they come searching for such things specifically—or did they watch us frolicking in the bright autumn sunlight, the crisp air stinging our hands as we worked and laughed and played?
It’s kind of spooky, if you ask me. 23 bags of leaves. The mystery still gnaws at me, probably always will. I’ll never know what happened to those bags. I’m sure someone took them on purpose, for some reason. I’ll have to make something up and use it in a novel someday!