Once Upon a time in the big forest there was a big old tree. In the height of summer the tree was the home to a whole host of big green maple leaves. During the hot summer days each leaf would bask in the sun and during the cool summer nights they would whisper to one another about the joys of the wind in the branches. One day in late August the leaves began to notice a change in their proud green hue.
“Why is my green coat changing to yellow?” the strongest leaf asked.
The wind blew through the branches and all the other leaves replied together, “It’s nearly fall, don’t you know? We’re all getting ready to fly.”
“Oh,” he replied, “but why can’t we stay right here together?”
The others laughed.
As the days of September went by he watched them turn bright red and soft brown. Then one by one, and sometimes in a rush before a big gust of cold wind, they let go of their branches. Instead of flying, each leaf merely fluttered down to the forest floor. Some rustled around for a few days, but soon they fell fast asleep.
The strongest leaf didn’t want to leave the forest branches. The thought of falling down into the dim forest floor frightened him. So as each gust of autumn wind blew he would cling to his branch all the tighter. With each day the wind grew colder and the number of his friends grew scarce. Soon his branch was bare and only a few leaves remained within shouting distance. Then even these lost their grip and with a sigh fluttered down into the wet shadows below.
One gray morning the cold drops of rain began to change. The strongest leaf watched in awe as the pattering of rain faded into the hollow sound of a million fluttering flakes of snow. He looked around to see if any other leaves were feeling the same wonder as him, but they were all gone. Every one had fallen like the gentle flakes that brushed by his tips. He was now all alone.
The days grew colder and the nights grew longer. All the strongest leaf could do was hold on to his branch through the long frozen winter. One night the snow turned wet again, but this time it stuck to everything it touched. It coated the forest in a thick layer of ice. The heavy ice was almost more than he could bear. His grip stretched to its limit as the groans and creaks of the trees turned into crashes as branches broke off and smashed down to the ground.
The strongest leaf cried out in pain, but he held on nonetheless. He was proud to have so far withstood the wind that twisted and tossed him, and the cold that froze and dried him. He knew that winter would not last forever and that soon the snow would melt and that the bitter cold would retreat, welcoming a new season of warmth and green. He was proud to have outlasted what had whisked all of the other leaves away.
Sure enough spring did come. The snow melted. The days grew warm. New buds began to appear on every branch all around him. The strongest leaf waited in eager expectation.
One warm spring day the buds finally burst into new tender green leaves. They opened their eyes and looked around in wonder. The strongest leaf said. “Hello friends. Welcome to the forest.” He smiled wide.
“Who are you?” They all asked together.
“I’m a maple leaf just like you.” He exclaimed.
“You're not like us,” they replied. “Look at how brown, dry, and ugly you are!”
The strongest leaf said, “That’s only because I’ve been holding on here all winter long.”
“You look gross!” they all said. “Your points are all shriveled, your skin is rotting and dry, and your stem is all splintered.” The little leaves laughed at him. “Why would you want to stick around so long like that?” They asked between snickers.
If he had any moisture left in him, the strongest leaf would have burst into tears. Instead he whispered, “I held on because I wanted to spend another summer up here with you.”
“That’s crazy!” They all yelled together. The laughter grew louder as word spread among the branches and trees that a year old leaf was still among them.
The strongest leaf heaved a heavy sigh. A fresh gust of wind caught him, but this time he didn’t resist. He let go. The wind’s clutching fingers carried him. His branch tumbled away. His tree tumbled away. The wind held his brittle folds lightly and lifted him up above the surrounding leaves. The curl of his tips and thin dry skin allowed him to be carried even higher. It was then he remembered the words of his old friends and he knew--all this time he had been getting ready to fly. He closed his eyes and let the wind carry him spinning into the spring sky.
