Red leaves

First, there was the seed. Nobody was there to witness the wind carrying it around thanks to its little wing. Or perhaps it got tangled on the feathers of a bird. Neither the animal nor the seed can tell us where or when it all began. In any case, the seed fell to the ground. And it was dark, rich, fertile soil. Soon, the little seed was buried deep enough, yet not too deep. Rains were kind that season. The sun warmed up the land. And, among herbs and wildflowers, a little sprout emerged from the ground the following spring.

“I think this place is perfect!” squeaked a young little voice. It belonged to a young girl with long black braids. Her footsteps were almost soundless because of the grass, but the little sprout could perceive dangerous vibrations approaching. Should the little human step on it, there would be no story to tell. 

“Careful, my dear Kuniko, don’t go too far” her father called. He was carrying a knitted basket containing apples, a bottle of water, and some rice cakes. Immediately, the little girl turned around. Father and daughter had a wonderful day at the sun: they flew a kite, they created their haikus, they enjoyed their picnic, and as the sun fell, Kuniko became so tired that her father had to carry her back home in his strong arms, the girl already asleep.

As for the little sprout, it could go on living undisturbed. Once a rabbit was pretty close to having it for lunch, but a fox scared it away just in time. And in a few years, the sprout was already too thick to be eaten by small, wild creatures.

Years went by, although plants have no calendars. A terrible war stroke the country. Some hundred miles away from where the young tree was growing, all the vegetation and the animals, along with thousands of human lives, were erased with a single fire cloud. Radiation hit the surrounding islands as well, but luckily for the tree, it didn’t reach as close. The tree kept growing taller. Its leaves were red, and every autumn they would turn yellow and fall to the ground. Families of birds would nest on its branches. Butterflies flew around in the summer, and the rain brought moisture to the roots, which kept getting deeper and stronger every year.

Every once in a while, people would walk near the tree, but few of them would stop by. Their faces were sad. However, as time passed, everyone slowly started to recover, and the tree, which by now was over ten meters tall, again felt the murmur of children, laughing or singing their little chants. Once, one of them collected a small branch. He cut it carefully not to harm the tree. “My aunt told me these trees grow great as bonsais”, he said to his friends. The tree couldn’t understand, yet some part of it felt that, no matter what became of its life, another life would carry on its spirit. Another branch, and new red leaves, eventually grew in the spot the boy had detached the little branch.

Sometime later, a young man and a woman were taking a walk. Despite not being summer yet, the sun was scorching in the sky, and they decided to rest under the shade of the tree. They were both in their mid-twenties, and they seemed lost looking into each other’s eyes. Their hands were strongly held together.

“I used to come here all the time”, said the woman, “I mean, before the war”. Her big dark eyes felt with moisture. “Is this the place you wanted to show me?” asked the guy. “Yes. This is where my father and I spent our last time together”. “Are you sure about this?” he whispered. “I am. I know he would appreciate it.”

The young man stood up, and put one hand on the tree trunk, taking some moments to gain courage. “Mr. Tanaka San, nothing in the world matters to me more than your beloved daughter. And if you give us your blessing, I would like to make her my wife and dedicate the rest of my days to make her as happy as you would have intended”. Kuniko’s eyes were filled with tears. But she was crying with happiness. A gust of wind blew, and one red leaf from the tree flew right into her lap. She stood up and took the man she loved by his arm. “I know he’s happy for us”, she said, smiling through her tears.

The tree kept growing, its trunk became wider and its leaves, more abundant each year. However, its surroundings experienced a much different change: the lands were sold, and soon, there was a whole village around what used to be a natural landscape. The architect who bought the ground containing the tree decided it was too beautiful to cut it down. So he designed a building with an interior garden. It was meant to be a school, but as the village prospered and became a small city, it ended up becoming a high office building. It was known as Irohakaede no Tatemono (Maple Building) because of its majestic ornamental tree surrounded by glass windows. There was now a wooden <zbench under the shade, at the same spot where once a man had asked the spirit of a beloved father the hand of her daughter. Few birds would nest on the tree’s branches by now. Its chirps have been replaced by conversations, people walking by every day, having coffee, or talking to each other during a cigarette break.

One day, a young man sat by himself on the bench under the tree. He raised his eyes and tried to spot the sky through the deep foliage. He was tired of looking at the computer screen all day. He was done working with numbers. He seemed old and tired, although he was still in his late teens. All he ever wanted to do was to quit his job and become a writer. “What should I do?” he whispered. He had just finished high school and had found a good job, and he didn’t want to disappoint his parents. But he treasured the words of her grandmother, who lived in a village nearby; in the same house she had spent all of her life: “If you ever decide your poetry’s worth is more important than the money you make, you can count on me”. He stood up and took firm steps into the office building, certain to speak with his boss that same afternoon.

Half an hour later, as he departed the building, he looked young, fresh, and relieved. He walked by the tree one last time, before leaving the office building for good. As he walked by, a red leaf fell in front of his feet. He picked it up with a smile. He knew Grandmother Kuniko would be pleased with such a present that evening when he dropped by to tell her the big news.