Left Alone

He was the one every fall who refused to trim his trees. No one in our neighborhood liked him; regretfully including myself. One day nearing fall’s arrival I walked up his walkway and knocked.

It took him awhile to answer. Sir I said fall’s just about here and I’d like to know why you don’t trim your trees, especially this one by your door. He kind of looked me up and down and then he said some things are better off left alone. Young lady, in time you’ll know why, now go away and don’t come back till you do.

Fall started slow that year; raking was an on and off thing. In between all of us with our rakes and bags had a chance to watch everything change for a change without wind in our faces. That was when I happened to look over his way. His tree sparkled like a gold dust bag had broken loose from some poor miner’s hands above and around his door. If the wind had blown at that moment, my mouth would have been full of dead leaves.

I dropped my rake and walked up our least favorite neighbor’s walkway praying I didn’t disturb one of his leaves. It took a while when a younger version of him answered. I sort of stuttered asking is your dad here? No Miss, my dad passed two days ago. Right before he died, he told me he figured a young lady would drop by; I assume he meant you. If so, I expect you know now what he meant when he told you, some things are better off left alone.

Rachealgrace Adams (c)