Letting GO: The Tale of Little Leaf

by Luann Elizabeth Doman

[Based on a true story]

In the yard

by the house

on a street

with a hill

grew a tree

with a lovely little leaf.

The lovely little leaf and its little leaf friends gave shade to a lady bug,

a grasshopper,

and a caterpillar.

One sunny day, that spot of shade grew bigger.

The lady bug,

the grasshopper,

and the caterpillar

noticed the sapphire sky give way to shifty, shadowy clouds, and the scent of rain filled the air.

Three little leaves from the tree fluttered to the ground, and

the lady bug,

the grasshopper,

and the caterpillar

dove for cover.

A storm was coming.

Little leaf waved in the wind and danced to the rock and the roll of the thunder. It smiled to itself because it was young and brave and innocent.

But the twiggy branches that held the leaf started to 

bend and bow  

and curtsy and conga 

as hot summer raindrops jumped and splashed.

One by one, leaf after leaf shook and shimmied and surrendered to the now roaring wind. But the lovely little leaf held on, trembling as the wind pushed it to and fro and pulled it here and there.

“OH MY!” said the lovely leaf. “I MUST HOLD ON!”

The lovely leaf waited and waited for the storm to end, because storms always come to an end, even if it takes forever.

As sure as the summer rains fall, the storm came to an end. When the lady bug, the grasshopper, and the inchworm peeked out from their hiding places, they saw the lovely green leaf still perched atop the baby tree.

But it had changed. It didn’t wave or dance. It held on. Tight.

The little leaf said, “I will never let go. Never, no never!”

Even though the wind was no longer blowing.

Autumn came, and the vibrant greens of summer gave way to the russet shades of fall.

The ladybug flew off,

the grasshopper hopped away,

and the caterpillar became a butterfly.

The little leaf turned yellow, then orange, and still, it held on.

The delicious chill of autumn became chillier yet, and the little leaf turned red. Crimson, in fact.

Some say it was bound to happen. Others said it was embarrassed. But little leaf didn’t care. It refused to leave. “I must hold on! I will not let go! Never, no never! it whispered to no one but itself.

“Oh, little red leaf!” called the wind through the tree. “Come and play, dance with me!”
“Never!” replied little leaf.

Winter came, and a flutter and flurry of flakes began to fall. The little leaf shivered. Its edges curled, its crimson faded, and the slow creep of sepia made its way through the veins of tiny leaf.

Before long, powdery snow began to paint it a crystalline blue and white.

And for the first time in a long time, the little leaf began to dream. What else is out there? Is there more to this life than holding on, refusing to let go? Will I die right here, on this branch, never having seen the world?

Off in the distance a flash of red caught little leaf’s attention. It was a cardinal! 

It whistled, and little leaf turned and twisted and strained and sputtered, trying to get a better glimpse of its brilliance.

And that’s when it happened.

Before it had the chance to be brave, or not be brave, or really even think about it, the little leaf that perched atop the tree

in the yard

by the house

on the street

with a hill 

let go.

Just for a second.

The wind swelled up beneath it.  “Come and play! Dance with me!”

Little leaf turned and tangoed and jumped and jived and swayed and swaggered and boogied and bobbed and bowed and curtsied and waltzed through the yard,

around the house,

down the street,

and up the hill.

It flew so fine and frolicked so fast that even Cardinal could not quite keep up.

The leaf had let go—of its fears and worries—and of the twiggy branch that tethered it to the tree and its dreamless existence.

Nothing would ever be the same.

And that was okay, because little leaf was finally living the adventure it was created for.

THE END