Falling Leaf

“It’s the most wonderful time of the year….”

No, I’m not talking about Christmas. I’m talking about autumn. Heralded by that first early morning, when you can get your hoodies and flannels back out. Changing leaves and crisp breezes, and putting beanies on top of your head. Grey, mystical skies prettier than any jewel you can mine out of the deepest pits of the earth. And the Harvest Festival! The crown jewel of it all. And the best part? I have a date this year. Not just any date, but the “one that got away”. Everyone has one. Mine’s name is Jesilyn.

She finally got fed up with life in New York City. If anyone could make it there, I knew it would be her. She is so smart, “too smart”, my mom always said. But she texted me out of the blue one Sunday night, it had been years. She told me she wasn’t happy, she missed the country, and was coming back to stay with her mom and start over fresh. The emotions came rushing back when she texted, “I miss you so much”. There was not a single emoji in my phone appropriate to convey what I felt.

So now, I’m excited *and* nervous simultaneously. Nervousness began tipping the scales on excitement when the day finally arrived. I’m messing with my outfit too much. I can’t pick an outfit! I’m pacing again, looking at the clock. Sure, I still have hours to get ready, but no amount of time feels like enough to prepare for finally seeing Jesilyn again, after all these years. I’m ecstatic, but I’m also freaking out.

I finally decided on an outfit, simple jeans and a flannel, my shaggy hair cutely tucked into my favorite black beanie. As I looked at myself in the mirror, I provided myself a pep talk, lame as it sounds. I’ll take any potential advantage I can get. This is the Harvest Festival with Jesilyn, after all. It has to be perfect. 

I forget exactly what self-affirming nonsense I was telling myself, when I was interrupted by the chime of my phone. A special sound, I had designated for her. I pulled my phone out of my pocket like it was on fire. I imagine it was comical, frantically digging my phone out of my pocket, as though I’d never removed it from my pocket in my entire life.

Quickly, adjusting into a mindset of what I perceived as being suave. “It’s just a text, it’s fine.” I don’t have to worry about blurting out something embarrassing. I can dial it in. Despite my ridiculously serious demeanor, all she wants to know is when I’m coming to pick her up. A nice slow pitch to get started, if I’m being honest. I can give her a time, right? That part is easy. Just text “at five”. It doesn’t need accompanied by a sonnet. 

It’s the harvest festival. It’s impossible to not have fun at the harvest festival, even with the date jitters. Leaves blood red and gold, making a nest for the pumpkins in the patch. They even give tractor rides so you can go through the field, and pick one or two to take home. Maybe a gigantic one for an epic Jack-o-lantern. Or a smaller one, perfect for baking a sweet pumpkin pie. 

Jesilyn and I always had chemistry. Why worry so much? That’s what I told myself. But if you’ve ever fallen in love and had the jitters, you know how precisely worthless that advice is. Forget butterflies in the stomach, a swarm of dragons flapped rampantly in my belly. But no matter, I walk to my car. It’s time to drive to her mama’s house pick her up.

I turn on the radio and roll down the window, it’s chilly but I still like the breeze. I’m dressed for it. It’s the road to her mom’s house, and I know it all too well. I could drive it blindfolded after driving it daily as a teenager. I found myself feeling nostalgic from familiar sights, familiar houses and trees, and the winding part of the road that finally leads to her old house. I was almost there. 

Her old dog, Cooper, was still alive and kicking, but he didn’t recognize me anymore. A new car, a beard, not wearing the clothes of a high school skater kid anymore, he had questions for me, barking them loudly. I needed to state my business coming onto his property. Fortunately, letting him smell my hands and scratching behind his ears gave me the “all clear” to knock on the door. Maybe he just needed the reminder. It’s still me, Coop.

As I approached the door, before I could knock, the door opened. Cooper had given away my presence. There stood Jesilyn in the doorway, the same girl I remembered from high school. Somehow even more beautiful than before. Within the space of a second, the memories and feelings pelted me like an unforgiving midwestern hail. I felt myself tremble, I wanted to cry. I wanted to throw up. I didn’t know what to do. But as always, she gave her smile, and she took it all away. She took my hand. As if it were the simplest thing in the world to do. An anticlimactic yet enthusiastic, “let’s go to the harvest festival!”

Once we got into the car, I was surprised by how naturally our normal conversation came back, like old times. She told me all about New York, I tried to keep up with stories from our hometown, clearly outmatched. It didn’t matter. We were talking and carrying on like we always did before. I wasn’t nervous anymore. It almost felt like she was still my girlfriend and we never broke up. We went back in time.

The laughter and smiles were contagious, we were singing along to our favorite songs, making fun of each other for being off-key. We weren’t the best vocalists, but we were caught up in the moment. Just like the old days. Back when I had a car that barely ran.  Back when we sang to FM radio instead of Bluetooth. We were bringing the past back to life, happy and cackling like teenagers again.

But something strange happened. She watched the falling leaves from the car window. The smile immediately left Jesilyn’s face, so abruptly that I questioned whether her happiness was really there to begin with. She asked me to pull over. I thought maybe she was sick or needed to use the bathroom. I pulled into a gas station, concerned by the abrupt change.

Her eyes began to lose their glow as she stared into mine. She was about to tell me something awful, I could feel it. My euphoria blew away like dandelion seeds, like the fallen leaves in a high wind. I swallowed the knot in my throat. “What’s wrong, Jes?”

She acted like she was ashamed to say. Legs pursed together, hands clasped. I knew something was legitimately, seriously wrong. But I didn’t understand how this was coming out of nowhere. I rested my hand on her shoulder, an attempt to encourage her to speak. 

She teared up a bit as she began to speak, “there’s another reason I came back from New York.”

At this point, I’m expecting literally anything. A terrible ex boyfriend? An abusive boss? What else happened up there? I wanted to be the hero. I spoke with confidence, “I will take care of whatever is wrong. You’re back home now, forget about New York, I’ve got you.”

My words did not assure her, not one bit. She sobbed even harder in the passenger seat of my car, digging through my glove compartment for any sign of tissues or napkins. I was dumbfounded, but also realized this was something way worse than the usual garbage that life can dole out.

Patient as I could be, soft-spoken, “you can tell me whenever you’re ready.”

Jesilyn looked to the floorboard of the car and began to confess, as though she was ashamed or didn’t want it to be true, “I have pancreatic cancer. I’m running out of days left to live.”

She paused between tears, and continued, “I’m not trying to be morbid, but it has me thinking about my life, you know? And trying to remember what made my life so great. Do you want to know the very first thing I thought of?”

This was the absolute last thing I expected. I’m hurt, new pain rips through me. But I have to be strong for Jes. I can’t process this for myself yet. Help her! I want her to get her words out... “What was the first thing you thought?”

Despite the grim news she provided, she somehow conjured a halfway smile. “Harvest Festival”, as she continued looking downward. “The first time I fell in love… I left New York to come back to the Harvest Festival with you, one more time. Sure I’ve thought tons about mom and dad, and my brother, but really, I mostly thought about riding on that dirty tractor, holding hands, and picking out a pumpkin or two with you, one more time.”

My heart dropped out my body like a lead ball. I’ve had nightmares like this before, surely this is another one? No amount of blinking, or pinching my arm led to an escape from the permanence of her despair. I felt the need to be brave, to be her rock, bury my feelings and be there for her. I was absolutely devastated, there were no words for it. Not having the first clue what to say, I squeezed her hand tightly, and choked out as convincingly as possible, “let’s go to the Harvest Festival.”

It didn’t feel enough. I just wanted to give her what she had asked for. I knew no other way to make any of this better. This is what she wants. To be with me. It was bittersweet, but what was I to do, tell her I wouldn’t take her? Her hand on my lap, we pulled out of the gas station and continued onward to the festival, the energy in the car monumentally changed. No more songs. Silence.

Jesilyn sighed while staring out the window, admiring the foliage, the palette of autumn. I kept glancing over to her while driving, needing to gauge her emotional state. How long has she known about this diagnosis? I wanted to ask so many questions, but I was terrified of the answers. 

She kept staring at the falling leaves. She finally spoke after what felt like hours of silence, “That’s me.”

Confused by the statement, I could only muster saying, “What?” 

She smiled slightly. “The leaves, babe. I’m one of them. That falling leaf. I was a bud, I grew into the prettiest bright green leaf, drinking the sun and showered by the rain. It was beautiful. Every bit of it.”

She continued with tears welling in her eyes. “Now I’m losing color, I’ve turned from green to pale gold. The season has come. My fate is to become a falling leaf. Nothing left to receive or give, as I drift back to the earth that nourished and made me. A falling leaf that’s gold is just as pretty as a green one. Being with you today is a change of color, but still beautiful.”

It took everything I had to keep my eyes on the road. This girl I loved so much, missed so much, only to have her reflecting on her mortality. I hated how powerless I felt, unable to absolve her of the pain, the finality of life, and at such a young age.

As we pulled into the Harvest Festival, we were surrounded by the antithesis of the darkness inside the car. There were children laughing and playing. Proud farmers showcasing their yields. Laughter and dancing. Playful decorations and people holding hands. 

“Babe…”

“Dying is a part of life, I know that’s what I’m supposed to say, but while I’m here, I want to cherish every second of this evening with you.”

I felt selfish bursting into tears. I failed to be brave. She wiped tears from my cheeks with the sleeve of her flannel shirt. “Don’t cry babe. Let’s have this evening. I don’t want to be cheated out of having this with you. I know you don’t have all the answers. But I’ll give you one that would please me now, in this moment.”

I attempt to maintain composure. Somehow, and I still don’t know how she did it, she looked into my eyes and smiled, “let’s get on that tractor ride and pick a pumpkin. A big one for a Jack-o-lantern, a small sweet one for a pie.”

I always knew she was beautiful, sweet, funny and caring. But damn, I didn’t know she could be this brave. I grasped her hand tightly and agreed, “two pumpkins, one big and one small one, for pie.”

We approached the festival, hand in hand, with our mission in mind. The wind blew with a thrill and spring in its step. The sky began to darken. Our hands squeezing even more tightly as we were surrounded by laughter, bonhomie, and beautiful, falling leaves.