Autumn Leaves in Castle Park, Vicky Turner

Nature Club in Castle Park: ten tiny humans making collages out of dried leaves, matching leaf to mother tree. Me and the other mums watch on, offering help and wet wipes, our laughs frequently turning into yawns, our sleep deprived eyelids heavy with adoration and exhaustion. The collages are proudly carried home by little hands or placed in the strollers of sleeping siblings.
Amongst the familiar sycamore, oak and chestnut leaves, the gingko biloba leaves stand out, whispering of exotic places, Geisha tea ceremonies and Shinto temples. As we walk home through the park in the grey autumn afternoon, you snooze in your stroller clutching a handful of yellow gingko leaves. I allow myself a few minutes to dream of travelling further than the park. Feel the weight of my backpack, passport in hand, landing in some foreign country where the air smells hot and the trees are not from a green and pleasant land. Reaching our front door, you wake and demand food; you open your tiny fist, and the gingko leaves blow away. I am back amongst the oaks and the holly bushes of England.
Years later, I meander through Castle Park. The yellow leaves of the gingko biloba are glorious in the autumn greyness. I am alone with my memories, but not lonely. You are a man now, but I carry you with me always; your pressed gingko leaf bookmark is stored in my passport until it marks the page of each new journey I take.