The early winter wind blew harshly, leaving her checks and
nose bright red. She had been waiting at the end of the
driveway for some time now. Twenty minutes? Thirty?
She was a child and what did she know about time. It had
been long enough for her hands to begin to turn numb and
make her wish she had remembered to wear her mittens.
She watched as the early November winds worked hard to
pull the last of the leaves from the nearly naked trees. Like
her, the trees knew nothing of time and refused to give up
their precious bits of life. One by one she watched as
leaves from the big maple were plucked from their
branches and tossed wildly upon the wind. They might be
tossed about for a few minutes before they were caught in
the hedgerow. Or they might ride the wild unpredictable
winds for miles until settling on a neighboring farm.
Surely it must have been thirty minutes by now? She
thought to herself. What was taking so long? She knew
she didn’t have to ask that question, she already knew the
answer. Her mother was probably fixing her hair or
putting on her make-up. Although none of that made any
sense as they weren’t going anywhere. Maybe her mother
had forgotten? Impossible. Her mother told her she would
be out in a few minutes. After all, this was an important
event. She’d just had her birthday and her Dad had
removed her training wheels before he left for work. She
felt excited and scared at the same time. Butterflies were
swarming in her stomach. Even her Dad had told her that
her mother would help her learn to ride the bike. So where
was she?
Maybe she wasn’t coming? Impossible! She promised!
But when had that ever mattered? Even at this age she was
beginning to see that her mother rarely kept her promises.
They were mostly used as a way of shutting the children
up. So why believe her mother now? Perhaps it was that
she was young and still had faith in her mother’s honesty.
She still believed that her mother would rather teach her to
ride a bike instead of trying on a half dozen outfits before
finding just the right one to wear. The sky was dark gray
and the sun was hidden behind the clouds. It was difficult
to tell what time it was, but she knew it must be close to an
hour already. She continued to stand next to her bike and
watch the leaves being plucked one by one from the trees.
She began to cry. Slow quiet tears dropped from her eyes
and down her nose, finally catching in the wind to be
blown away. But she promised! She kept saying to herself.
You can’t break a promise. As the minutes passed by, her
tears came faster. No long single drops but streams that
the icy wind blew against her numb checks. Deep down
she knew her mother had once again betrayed her and she
began to sob into the sleeve of her coat.
She felt foolish and stupid for even falling for the trick
again. She didn’t understand why this happened, but like
the many other times before, she began to accept that her
mother had lied to her. Slowly her sobs quieted and the
tears began to trickle away. She took a deep breath and
walked her bike back up to the house.
As she took one last glance at the maple tree, a large gust of
wind tugged hard at the last leaf. It was in the high
branches and it seemed as if a tug-of-war was going on.
The tree desperate to hold onto its former spring glory
while the winter wind was trying to consume it. Unable to
watch what she knew was going to happen she went into
the house and closed the door. Outside the last leaf was
finally plucked from its roots and tumbled and swirled in
the wind, finally blowing out of sight. Once again the old
maple tree was left to stand out the winter cold, naked and
vulnerable.
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Angela C. Byers
Copyright © 1996 - 2006 Angela C. Byers