the shape of leaves

As I walked along, the clouds dotting the sky started moving together and formed a cover overhead. Lately, the humidity had been building, and light pellets of rain landed on my head and my outstretched palms.

The verdant summer leaves drew my eyes upward. Leaves in the shape of small circles dotted the overcast sky above. Next to them, the green maples sliced through the air with their serrated blades. Long, lazy cherry tree leaves rolled out into the canopy with their dark green underbellies. The warm rain fell as I crouched on the ground, bum touching the heels of my shoes, noticing the shape of the leaves as the rain fell through the holes, the moisture deepening the greens of foliage, the weight beckoning down the few already yellowing leaves, soft sobs tumbling out of my body. In this mixture of feeling, the rain felt completely right. I breathed in and felt the emotions clouding my chest begin to lighten.

It occurred to me that we may never cross paths again. In fact, that seemed quite unlikely. And we may never have more of those tender moments to enjoy in each other’s company even if we did. But I thought of her and that liveliness she had brought to this season.

We had never formed our thoughts into words – maybe we weren’t anywhere close enough for that – but I looked back at how open I had been back then. It seemed like every elation and disappointment had been magnified to the extreme. As these thoughts rolled around, a tension started in my chest and led into my throat. But the sobs gradually began to subside.

It seemed as though something that had been oozing out of me for some time had solidified at last. I felt sad, achy still, with a tenderness that seemed so soft the wind could kiss it away.

But it was all, now, definitively, in the past.

A maple leaf landed on my knee, miraculously. I picked it up, holding it gently between my forefinger and thumb then stood and continued to walk the by the river.