Following is another excerpt from my book, Louie to the Rescue: A Memoir of Surrender and Redemption.
Almost eight years ago, I was confronted with the reality that our fear-based, people-aggressive dog, Louie, might adjust better in a forever home with rolling meadows than city streets. Devastated, I stared out the window and watched as a green leaf fell from a tree. That was not supposed to happen so close to spring, a time of rebirth and renewal.
This excerpt recounts a childhood memory in my 10-year-old voice. Thank you for reading.
. . . One day when I was walking home from school I saw the breeze blow a leaf off a birch tree. It was red and pink and brown. The leaf tumbled in the wind like those circus acrobats. It crackled when it hit the ground ‘cause it was so dry. Maybe it was dead. I felt sorry for the leaf — and hated the tree for throwing it away. I picked up the leaf, held it gently and and carried it all the way home. Grandma saw me coming and opened the front door. I ran right past her into the bathroom without saying hello. I had a plan. If it worked the leaf would come back to life and the tree would want it again.
I’d seen this commercial advertising a special lotion you can rub on your skin to get rid of wrinkles and bring skin “back to life.” I wonder why no one thought to rub the lotion on grandpa who was old and wrinkled. Then maybe he wouldn’t have died.
I set the leaf down on the cool, white tiles on the counter and reached for the bottle of lotion, but knocked it over like so many things I touch. My heart was beating fast when I poured little dabs on the arms of the leaf. The lotion sat there like little pink pearls, then sank into the surface. After a minute, the arms started to smooth out. I rubbed the pink pools towards the middle of the leaf and out on the edges. Before my eyes, the whole leaf was getting soft! It didn’t turn green, but I knew that if I showed it to the tree it would want it again.
For the rest of the day and into the night, I kept the leaf with me. He was my guest during dinner and afterwards while I watched Batman and F Troop. Between shows, the lotion commercial came on and I jumped up and down. “It really works!”
Before bed, I put the leaf on the nightstand and covered part of it with a little tissue, sort of like a blanket, ‘cause I didn’t want it to get cold. I turned out the light and pet the leaf and told it that tomorrow, I would rescue all his brothers and sisters and show my friend Steve and the kids at school and those trees that I can take care of things.
In the morning, the leaf was still soft. I wrapped him in a damp paper towel and set him on the bathroom counter, away from the window so the sun could not scorch him. I asked grandma, mom and Uncle Henry to leave my leaf alone ‘till I got home. They said yes.
On the way home from school, I made a hammock with the front of my shirt and collected about twenty leaves from the sidewalk by the tree that threw them away. Then I ran home and straight to the bathroom where my friend was waiting.
Something was wrong.
The paper towel had completely dried and crumpled up like a fist. I peeled back the paper and saw my friend, dry as a bone and broken into dozens of pieces. He was dead again. I locked the bathroom door and cried for half an hour. After a while, I think grandma heard me ‘cause she knocked on the door and asked if I was constipated.
Maybe I should have used more lotion or stayed home from school to watch him. In school, they show us movies about how things are born and how they die. But I don’t know why things have to die and get thrown out.
I hate the trees until Thanksgiving. By then, the trees had thrown away all their leaves and were naked and shivering against the sky. I kept every leaf I swept off the sidewalk. When they fell apart some more, I stuffed them in my jacket and pants’ pockets and walked and walked with them until they crumbled into cornflake dust. Grandma found the last piece one day while she was doing laundry in spring. By then, the new, green leaves were sprouting again . . .