This was the pumpkin Foos carved with her father. It didn’t last long. They did a bad job of removing the guts and seeds, and after a couple of days on our stoop, tiny enterprising flies made a home of it. When I finally decided it was time to get rid of it, I consulted with Foos and she, alarmed by so many little flies, just looked at me and said yes, momma, go ahead. When I picked up the pumpkin its flesh was soft and warm from sitting in the sun. The flies, not happy i had trespassed, crawled on the flesh of my hands, and became the sound in my ears. I felt guilty, but I tossed it in my trash can. Just like everything else was or will be, it was gone, but at least I have this picture.