Monday, March 03, 2008
-
Sophia
HER PARENTS HAD DROPPED from the tree a year ago in autumn. Her uncles and aunts and cousins followed shortly. Her other relatives, her extended family, their friends, all of them. Then she was born the following spring. She was born near the top, on one of the most outward branches. I watched her grow through the season, then through summer. From a little bud to a full-sized maple leaf, she grew. She lived the life of a leaf, playing in the wind, drooping in the dew and mid-morning rain.
She was temporary. She knew it. But she refused to acknowledge it. I refuse to drop, I heard her say to her friends. And they had laughed at her, swaying playful. I admired her from afar, from across the street, in the evergreen pine where I am a needle. I admired her structure, her symmetry, her palmate veining, her faultless V shape. With sharpened tongue, I cried out for her as well as a pine needle could. I pined for her, but one knows coniferous foliage can’t cry.
So she passed through the end of summer, still stubborn about her awaiting autumnal fate. Her friends continued teasing swoosh-swoosh, swaying more. With photosynthesis waning, I hoped the best for her. It was getting colder. Then like the rest, she changed. From green to yellow and orange and red and brown, golden, titian, crimson. She watched on with sadness. I won’t drop, she said, all the while soaking less sunlight. I refuse to drop, she said, losing chlorophyll.
She was one of the last few. One of the stragglers still holding on to their twigs. The McCallisters had raked up her friends a while ago, the ones who had already dropped. She had watched from her branch aloft, speaking in low undertones to herself. I kept watch over her. Looking for the exact moment. I didn’t sleep. I almost missed it. It was a silent day. I could almost hear the separation. I saw the twirling, the curling, looping, twisting, spiraling, the dropping. And I cried out for her once more. How I wanted to fall with her. How I wanted to know her name.
-
recommend
- recs 0
-
email
- sent 0
Post a Comment
- Back to edudlooc13's Xanga Site!
- Note: your comment will appear in edudlooc13's local time zone: GMT -05:00 (Eastern Standard - US, Canada)
Comments (61)
wow, is all i've got for this one. there has never been one of these posts i've read which touched me like this one. maybe it's hormones or something. :`)
what i mean to say is, it's lovely in that bittersweet way i love.
this is
fascinating.
it has so much in it, for something so short.
soooooooo--God answered - He said no to sophie's choice
lol, I always have to read your stories twice so that I can understand... Makes me smarter! And again, very nice and different... always a good read... :]
a pine needle may love a leaf, but where would they live? it was only short moments later that a small child came and pulled the pine needle from its home on the tree - and the same child picked up the beautiful and brave leaf from the dusty ground..and not knowing of how much the pine needle had longed to be with the leaf, the child pasted both of them on opposite pages in a book of pressed flowers, and leaves..and needles. together forever, even though they lost their last breath as the child closed the book to place it on a lovely wooden shelf. graveyards are everywhere, but who really cares - when you're across from the one you love - pasted in forever..
That was a particularly beautiful piece.Â
wow
Lovely. Your story-telling prowess is wondeful. I'm glad I subscribed.
Beautiful.
This reminds me of American Beauty. And that street with all the trees. And the two neighbors walking down the street and a hearse passes by. You always capture that same beautiful simplicity. I can imagine a kid looking up at a tree and naming all the leaves on a lazy summer day.
I love sucking the helium out of balloons! It's so much fun to call someone after that. And yes, I think the little bumble me was embarrassed when that picture was taken. Or playful maybe =pwow. one of my favorite pieces of yours, I think. oh, and love that subtle pun of the needle pining for the leaf, haha.
~S
incredible, so incredible. so many parallels. so many ways to be related to "life." i would love to see through your eyes, and your writing lets me for a short time.
ok, really, your stuff is new york times bestseller worthy. write a book! :)
How beautiful! I never would've thought about the romance and tenacity of a maple leaf.
Lovely! It's an ironic story. If she had accepted her fate from the beginning, like her friends, she might have been happier. However, if she were typical, she wouldn't have gotten noticed.
I always look forward to reading your stories.
she was temporary. she knew it. but she refused to acknowledge it.
yep.
@greggorant - I just cried for a leaf. That's a first. Thank you for that. And I thank Greggo for bringing me over here.
I don't think that I will ever look at fall in the same way again. Such love floating all around.
this was so beautiful. i wanted to drop with her too
Wow, I love this kind of abstract route you're taking, while preserving the eye-witness p.o.v...I always feel like the eye-witness, always watching from a far and giving the narration.
Wow. I'm crying here... I felt her sadness, her refusal to drop. This is utterly beautiful but now I feel sad.
Breathless, man, you left me breathless. Incredible personification, I've never seen anything quite like it. The last paragraph coexists beautifully and sadly, I love it. I wish I had this fiction thing down as well as you do.
This is BY FAR my favorite piece of yours, and that is saying A LOT!
That was beautiful... where do you get your ideas from? Have you ever been published at all?
The last line is brilliant. You never fail to amaze. Is it too early in our relationship to say "I love you?"
RYC: I have ugly feet. It's true.