Flutter

Note: Leaves, of course, do not have gender. In Tree-speak it is customary to use the general pronoun “il” for leaves, which I have left untranslated here.

The last tendril snapped. Flutter, untethered, felt ecstatic and terrified and alive.

Flutter heard Tree speak for the last time – not the warm, flowing voice il was used to, but now a faint exhale.

“It is your season to fly, beloved Flutter,” whispered Tree. “May life spring from life.”

“May life spring from life,” cried Flutter. “I love you, dear Tree!”

A breath from Tree carried Flutter into the arms of the waiting wind. This was the same gentle, persistent Breeze that had been Flutter’s companion since il’s unfurling. Now, however, it felt unfamiliar.

I have lost my anchor, thought Flutter. Nothing is the same.

“Ah, I have been waiting so long for this moment!” crooned Breeze. “Will you fly with me?”

Flutter glanced back at the twig from which il had emerged seven moons ago as a leafling, the mooring that had held Flutter secure when even Breeze fled from the storms. Flutter tilted toward the branch in a gesture of farewell, then surrendered to Breeze.

“I will go with you until the ground takes me,” said Flutter.

Breeze lifted Flutter away from Tree. Flutter watched other siblings from il’s branch similarly drifting down and away—Petal, Puff, Swing, Star, Raindrop, Beetle, Shadow, Wing. Mottle, still twig-bound, waved to each as they passed.

“Goodbye!” they all called to one another. “Perhaps we will meet again on the ground!”

Then Flutter turned away from Tree and looked in every direction, as far as could be seen. Toward the sunset, to the left of Flutter’s former perch, was the tidy row of tall spruce that edged the yard, straight and smug and stolid in their unchanging green. Flutter proudly admired il’s own blazing coat of red and orange that had signaled the leaf’s coming of age.

Toward the sunrise was the road. From the Tree, Flutter had been able to see just a sliver of the black ribbon below, with cars coming and going, and houses on either side. When the wind shook the branch, the sliver had shifted this way and that. Now, careening on the breeze, Flutter could see the whole road at once, and was quite surprised to see that it stretched on and on in both directions.

And straight ahead and below was the roof of the house, where the people lived. Flutter, high up in Tree, rarely saw the people. Flutter could hear doors opening and closing, children running out with a shout, dogs being called in with a whistle, adults talking together in measured tones. But the angle of branch and roof had blocked most of the yard from Flutter’s sight.

Flutter, gently rocking lower, now was directly across from the upper story gable window. Last spring, when Flutter had still been just a young leaf, that window suddenly began to light up every night. And every morning, the shutters had been opened. Flutter had feasted on the sunlight reflecting off the pane.

Twig-bound Flutter could not see into the window, but every so often–especially at sunset–the panes were lifted and a head leaned out. It was a girl, not young, not old – Flutter had guessed that in leaf age, she would still be green, with the faintest hint of yellow. Sometimes she sighed, sometimes she cried, sometimes she just drank in the fading sunlight like a leaf.

Then the girl would disappear back into the room, the curtains would be drawn, and Flutter would spend the night wondering about her sighs and tears.

Breeze whirled Flutter around, laughing. “Hoy, Flutter, how do you like flying so far?”

Flutter stretched out on the dancing air. “I love it! There is so much to see!” Then Flutter grew somber. “And so little time to see it.” Already Flutter was below the level of the window.

Flutter’s friend Breeze considered. “I think if I danced extra hard, I could carry you upward long enough for one good look. Which direction shall we fly? Choose quickly!”

How to choose? Flutter wanted to see everything, to know everything! What lay beyond the row of spruce? What secrets did they greenly guard?

How far did the road go? Where did the cars come from, and where were they going?

What did the girl do when she was not sighing out her window?

It was mid-morning, so the girl was not at her window. So Flutter pointed with a red tip toward the spruce trees.

“Adventure!” cried Breeze. Puffing and pulling, gusting and swirling, Breeze lifted Flutter bit by bit. Flutter spun and strained to glimpse over their thickly intertwined branches. Was that glorious golden shape another Tree? Perhaps that white patch was another house?

“Higher!” Flutter urged.

But Breeze huffed, “I am not a bird or a cloud. And you are getting heavy.” Breeze had always been a good friend, but inconsistent and easily distracted. So Flutter had no choice but to resign to the beyond remaining a mystery.

“I must rest now,” declared Breeze. And Flutter started to fall, swaying a bit as il's broad side met the air. Down past the old branch home, past the empty window. Down toward the roof.

"No!" cried Flutter. The roof was not the proper destination for a leaf. Life could not spring from life on its rough, rootless surface.

Suddenly what Flutter wanted more than anything was to reach the ground. Flutter remembered Tree's words that had flowed though every leaf, every day, from unfurling to fall.

"The life of a Tree is long. The life of a leaf is short, but precious. You drink the sun and pour its life into this old tree. When it is your season to fly, you reach the ground and feed your life to new seeds, so that new plants can grow. This is what it means to be Leaf."

“Breeze,” cried Flutter, “come and help me!” But Breeze was sleeping.

The roof loomed below, tarry and un-alive. Flutter discovered that by dipping an edge just so, il could adjust the angle of descent. Just - barely - missing the edge of the roof!

Swaying, swaying gently down into the yard, Flutter looked up at the strange sight of Tree as it appeared from below. Tree’s branches waved as more leaves shook loose to start their downward journey.

“Ground take me!” thought Flutter.

Below was green grass–Flutter could just start to make out individual blades for the first time–dotted with red and orange and yellow shapes. Flutter looked for familiar siblings and was surprised to find many different types of leaves. Did all trees speak to their leaves in the matter of Tree, Flutter wondered?.

Occupied with these new sights and wonderings, Flutter did not notice the outstretched hands until they were almost directly underneath.

“What colors!” a soft, sad voice murmured. “A blaze of glory at the end …”

Flutter spun round and gazed down into the face of the girl in the window. Up close, Flutter could see the shadows gathering under her glittering eyes and in her taut cheeks. Her head was covered with a scarf the bright colors of a sunset. Her thin arms reached up, as if in supplication, ready to cradle a falling flame.

All this Flutter took in within a fleeting moment. “Short, but precious,” Flutter whispered, leaning lightly on the enveloping air for the last time. “May life spring from life,” Flutter breathed, preparing to surrender into the waiting hands.