"Hindsight, Nostalgia, and Retrospection"
It's not until there's an earth-shattering, ever-loving splinter in things do people pay any attention. Not until things are irrevocably, irreparably damaged. Only then do they wish that fallen leaves and acorns would take wing, fluttering, hurtling back to the trees, fastening themselves back into place. That the squirrel would kick it into reverse, backing up into the dog's snapping, insatiable jaws, it's tail fluff laced with ropey strands of saliva, dewed with the humidity of carnivorous breath. That the dog's leash would slither its way back to the little girl's hand, as if she held a tune on her lips that charmed garter snakes and cobras alike. That her feet would lift from the pavement and step back onto the curb, back onto the safe carpet of tiredly green autumn grass. That the powder-dusting of glass on the asphalt would reform into a solid windshield shape and reinsert itself into the previously mangled frame of the car. That the vehicle itself would burst back into motion, having been paused by some otherworldly remote control, and then rewind, zipping past the moment where the driver swerved to miss the little girl who darted into the street after the dog - and the moment just after that when the car wrapped around the thick girth of the telephone pole on the corner. Past the instant when the driver's heart stopped beating, just as the phantasmic wail of the ambulance broke the silence that followed the crash.
Would you even have noticed the leaves?
The real question is...if those trees weren't there, there wouldn't have been acorns...so would there have been squirrels? Would anything have happened at all? Everything's connected, isn't it? Everything's a catalyst.