The Leaves Still Fall...

I was sitting on a stool a stone’s throw away from school taking a bite of a scrumptious chicken wrap. I was so infatuated with the tastes from this lunch staple that I was floating. As I was floating in taste-bud euphoria, I noticed something else floating. A green leaf lazily wove its way through the air and landed on my table like it was sliding into second base.

A world away, the leaves still fall…

I picked it up, turned it, tilted it, sniffed it, studied its green veins and its crisp curves. It was sort of a Forrest Gump moment – but this was no feather, there was no moving music playing in the background. Just a tired woman with a stained apron to my right making another pot of jaodzi; just some students in red and white uniforms walking by, arguing over something they will soon forget; just a man in a suitcoat to my left hawking a loogie; just an English teacher who loves food and misses his family analyzing a lonely leaf.

A world away, the leaves still fall…

The other day, Matt and I are walking through the hallway and we are cornered by a posse of our brightest and most outgoing students and they excitedly hand us a gift – a dozen golden leaves from the Gingko tree decorated with Chinese characters in black marker. The leaves read, chuan (a lamb kabob that I adore) and Mi Jia (my Chinese name, literally translated: Excellent Rice). To my left smiles Matt, my brother and friend who can’t help but smile; in front of me are dark-haired students who unblinkingly worship us; to my right I see the golden Gingko tree, shimmering with a pride that rivals the sun.

A world away, the leaves still fall…

I walk by that tree every day. Its a little more naked than it was – a little less gold. A selfish gust of wind steals a few more precious leaves as the days graduate into November. I press pause in my whirlwind life and stop for once and just look at it – inhaling the moment. In front of my stands the majestic Gingko, standing tall although its golden glory is stolen and the leaves that once clothed it crunch as the tall teacher trots by in a rush to a class that starts in four minutes.

A world away, the leaves still fall…