Earlier this Fall, when the leaves had started to fade, I was driving to my day job. Along the way I saw love.

He stood at least 6 feet tall, thin as a young man usually is: beard, long-ish hair, working man's clothes, light coat against the coolness of the morning. His right arm hung down. His hand was down to his thigh, holding the little hand of his daughter.

His daughter was hardly as tall as his knee, and her arm was almost straight up, hand in her father's hand surrounding hers. She wore a padded pink jacket which was seeing its next year of service. They walked carefully, at her pace, without rush, going to the place where the school bus would pick her up.

The pink back pack matched her coat. It was as big as she. I think it must have been filled with dreams and the future and a lot of things you can't see unless your eyes are well adjusted.

And he was wearing it, as they walked along together.