Autumn Falls

FALL

 

It's very early. The sun has barely lightened the sky. I will be the first kid on my street to be sent to Hyman's bakery for fresh baked morning breakfast rolls. Believe it or not, I am glad to be first. September is ending today. Maple branches  barely move but overnight their red, orange, yellow and brown leaves fall silently to the ground. They crust the sidewalk and crunch with every step I take. I love it, love the sound and sing as the leaves fly up, touch my ankles, dance around my shoes. The bagged still warm Kaiser rolls are comfortable against my blouse.

 

My Zaidi used to sit with me at the window and watch the leaves start to grow and grow, watch zxvcbxthem nod and shake in summer storms. I am sad a lot because I don't have him any more. Mama tells me he is in heaven and may be watching leaves made of real gold and rubies fall around him. Sometimes at night when I can't fall asleep I try to imagine that but instead I picture him walking with me and my eyes cry a little until sleep comes.

 

Today Mama is fixing a treat for my school lunch. I watch her cut thick slices of white meat from the roast chicken we had for dinner last night. She puts the slices on a good, but no longer warm Kaiser roll, adds lots of chicken schmaltz, a little salt, and wraps it in Cut-rite waxed paper. I get five cents to buy a soda and five more if I want a bag of Planter's peanuts. Water from the hall fountain is all I need. She would make  sandwiches for my Zaidi and me sometimes on Saturday and if there were no leaves, we would be happy just taking a walk to the park or sitting in the house to play cards.

 

September is totally gone. School has started. The air is already cool enough for me to wear my heavy white turtle neck sweater. Mom looks me over and tells me I have out-grown it and and should let my sister Sylvia have it. 'Mama, I need my sweater. I want to go find the biggest, prettiest leaves I can for Miss Darcey. She has given us a leaf project. On Monday mornings we each are supposed to bring the ten prettiest or biggest maple leaves we can find to class. We will each show ours and the class will vote on the best. The best will go in the scrapbook Miss Darcy brought to school Friday. There will be room for the name of the winner and I want my name and leaves there. You'll see, Mama, I'm going to win this week.' Oh, my wonderful Mama. She offers to help me search but I tell her that would be cheating. I get a pat on my head for that and she shoos me out the front door.

 

The leaves don't smell right. They are damp and their corners turn down. I gather the best I can and carefully lay them down flat on newspapers on the cellar floor, hoping, praying to my Zaidi to make them pretty again. As soon as I wake up in the morning, I hurry to the basement to see my leaves. They look terrible, all shrunk up, no color left in them at all.

 

'Mama, Mama,' I call her to come downstairs. 'What can I do, Mama? I can't take these to school.' 'Darling, you can do nothing. It didn't just rain on our sidewalk. Nobody will be able to collect them either.' I feel a little better, get dressed, have my cereal with strawberries in the Buck Rogers bowl that Mama bought for me. The sky is getting lighter. I pray the sun will come out soon and dry what is on just our sidewalk.
When I have finished breakfast I put on my white turtle neck sweater again and go to check the weather.

 

I am too quick and skip a step. My ankle twists and I fall flat on my face, on top of the miserable looking mess of leaves and yell for my mother, my sister, my Zaidi. 'Help! Help! Come help me. Fall fell and so did I. Mama , Mama, I'm hurt. I broke either my nose or my ankle.'

 

Mama, Daddy and even Sylvia come to help me. They all look me over and tell me I will survive. Daddy is extra nice. He tells me I can stay home from school Monday, only Monday, and by the next Monday the trees will still have enough leaves for me to find. Maybe he is right.
He carries me into the house and lets me lie on the living room sofa, something only he has been allowed to do.

 

Sunday night, the night before I will be up early to gather my own leaves, I think, think, real hard about my Zaidi, ask him to help me find golden ones with rubies on the tips. I hear his shaky voice and feel his arm around me.  Zaidi tells me to look under the stairwell to the basement and I will find some real beauts.

 

I look after breakfast but don't find any. It doesn't matter. Zaidi is allowed a mistake now and then.