Leaves
The little girl kicked at the leaves in the gutter. All the way down the street and back up the other side, she waded through the stream of orange, red, and yellow. She liked how the leaves cracked and rattled. She liked how, when the wind blew, they jumped off the ground in groups, swirling and dancing, finally landing back on the street. One or two still clung to branches, as if they might escape their fate below.
Soon the neighbors would pile their leaves into bags and send them away somewhere. The little girl hated when that happened. The colors looked like jewels on the ground and in the sky. She wanted them to stay forever.
And so she closed her eyes and wished a wish. And when she opened her eyes, more leaves than ever blanketed the ground and the street. Leaves and more leaves fell through the sky like a million trillion colorful snowflakes—no two alike.
The little girl spread her arms. She twirled three times before leaping into the air. And then the strangest of strange wishes came true: her yellow sweatshirt, her rust colored pants, her brown shoes all blended with the falling and fallen colors. Truly. You could not tell the girl from the leaves.
The day was golden and forever and always.
Comments
What a great comment, Doug. I love that image of the leaf planting itself. Thanks for reading and writing.
Jan Nov 6, 13:10
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I love this story. I was having similar feelings when I was raking and leaf blowing this week. Clearly the leaves did not want to go. Some stuck their stems in the grass, pretending they were growing plants. Some bravely threw themselves into my chain link fence. And I’m wondering when and why our culture came to worship the manicured green lawn. It doesn’t seem to be nature’s message.
Doug Long Nov 6, 10:05