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.
“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
