In the month of September, during the 1960s in Norwich, the neighborhood on Talman Street was bustling with activity as each neighbor prepared for the approach of winter. Folks who worked all week at the American Thermos Bottle Company now spent precious weekends gathering wood, shingling the roofs, or clearing the garden.

I knew them all, having spent much of my youth with my grandparents.

It was a time for letting go and embracing the new. A time to gather and reminisce on the last harvest and hope the next one would be plentiful.

Uncle Henry Falcone also lived on Talman Street. He lived a short distance from my grandparents in a little house that always appeared to be on the verge of tumbling down the cliff and falling into the Shetucket River.

One Saturday, I was outside helping my grandparents when I noticed my uncle nailing shingles on his roof. My father was helping him, despite having a fear of heights and anxiety about falling into the river.

As they worked, Frank Delgado, a good friend and neighbor, happened to be driving by. When he saw the men working, he stopped and asked if they needed help. Of course, they did, and soon the three men were working on the roof laughing and joking.

In those days, it was a common sight to see neighbors helping each other on Talman Street.

In the meantime, I had been helping Nonna clean the garden as Nonno mowed the grass for the last time. In the afternoon, Nonno drove his tractor into the woods with the trailer hitched behind to gather wood. As his helper, I sat beside him, ready to perform an important job.

I was responsible for holding the red plaid Thermos that held a precious supply of hot chocolate that Nonno and I drank.

In peaceful semi-darkness, we entered the woods. Long rays of sunlight played hide and seek by peeking through the trees. Colorful birds flew from tree to tree, singing of sun-drenched fields and days of nests abundant with happy, chirping babies. Majestic ferns, once green, now turned to gold.

Several hours later, after the wood was piled high, Nonno pointed to a fallen log lying across the ground. He sat and patted the spot next to him.

We sat in the sun and took turns drinking from a Thermos cup. A triangle of Canada geese flew above in perfect formation.

“Look Nipote, that is God’s signature.”

Still, I felt sad.

“Nonno. I don’t want my life to change with you.”

He did not reply right away. Instead, he took slow sips of coffee and stared at the clouds drifting by.

“Nipote,” he said with compassion, “you must accept change. No one can stop the sun from shining and no one can stop change.”

For a few minutes we sat. Everything was silent except for the quiet hum of playful grasshoppers hiding in the ferns.

“But why does change have to take what we have, Nonno? It’s perfect.”

Nonno understood and smiled.

“No one can ever take away the love in our hearts. No. Not even change.”

In the years ahead, I grew older and so did Nonno. But I never forgot the lesson. When he died, I was surprised how the love in my heart was even stronger for him.

It is true. There is no change on earth that can break the bonds of love.

Concetta Falcone-Codding is a 1971 graduate of the Norwich Free Academy and the author of “The Lonely Nest.” You can send emails to concettafalconecodding1@gmail.com.