Wilhelmina

by Tobias Haglund

I fell in love with a leaf. I named her Wilhelmina. I watched her grow from a tiny bud to a golden leaf. She waved at me, not always, but regularly. If a wind blew through the tree, she danced, and the sunlight hit her like it knew how pretty she was.

Her time was coming up. I knew what would happen, but to give the young the wisdom of old is to kill the young. How could I? It seemed like I had not spoken for ages.

I watched her die. Watching Wilhelmina die was the slowest season of my life. Every wind, which once made her dance, was now a concern. She wasn’t strong enough to hold on any longer.  But it wasn’t wind. The day was entirely still. It was her last ounce of strength, her last breath which finally made her fall. She held on long, longer than many others. Love makes you hold on longer, to dance in winter winds and to fight, even though you long for sleep.

What pains me is not death; I see it all around me. It is memories. Several years have passed since Wilhelmina fell and I still remember it. New leaves grow, take shape, gain color and fall to the ground. But my leaf and my love is the one I care for, it is the memory of her that pains me. Not the millions others who fall.

I’m afraid to go out. I’m afraid that I will just realize what it all was. Trees, winds, and sunshine. Not love. And that Wilhelmina was just a leaf. Just a leaf.